


The Maze Of Memory

by Jane_Evans, kkhramova, sannflower, Triss666



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hot, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 40,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28261824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jane_Evans/pseuds/Jane_Evans, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkhramova/pseuds/kkhramova, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sannflower/pseuds/sannflower, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triss666/pseuds/Triss666
Summary: Hermione is twenty-two, she works for the Ministry of Magic, and her life is quite stable. The only thing that overshadows her – obsessive dreams that haunt the night where Hermione constantly sees Someone's silhouette. But when she and her friends find themselves at the best resort in the Magic World, the usual course of things changes in a completely unpredictable way, because she has to... dance. Dance with the enemy.If you like hot holidays, captivating aromas of flowers and wine, fabulous landscapes of Italy, fiery Latin dances, temperamental characters and a sea of   burning, intoxicating passion, then this fanfic is created just for you!The work is the winner in 3 nominations of the "Russian Dramione Awards": "Best unfinished fanfic" (when it was in the process of writing), "Best maxi-fanfic", "Best NC-17 fanfic".
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 12
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Лабиринт памяти](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/730527) by Jane Evans. 



> Fanfiction Trailers:  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OvfRWKZ0sNQ  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bk4e3mOx_D0  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lBQuJsMw8kg  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXHsluqpWLM  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhb1qLHYilk&t=25s

**Chapter 1**

_Soundtrack – Eskimo Joe «London Bombs»_

She walked down the cold Hogwarts hallway. As evidenced by the deathly silence broken only by the sound of her hurried steps there was not a single soul around. Torchlight illuminated the bare stone walls with occasional pictures of sleeping wizards on them. It was a deep night, she should have been sleeping for a long time now, if everything was as usual but ... Hermione glanced at her watch and stopped abruptly. Ten more minutes. The tension pulsed in her temples and it felt like her head was about to explode. She squeezed her eyes so tight she could almost see flashing circles, her nails were painfully digging into her palms. At one point she was ready to start screaming from an unbearable pain. No, not the physical one - her soul was being torn apart by an impending doom and endless sorrow which made her suffer so much. But only one thought helped her to pull herself back together: everything will be back to normal.  


She will be back to normal.  


Hermione opened her eyes, took a deep breath and continued walking down the narrow hallway, trying not to think about what was waiting for her at the end of it. Soon the familiar door appeared and her heart skipped a beat. There was a moment when she wanted to turn around and run away, but Hermione knew that there was no turning back. On wobbly legs she stepped closer, muttered the Unlocking Charm and stepped inside...  


"Hermione! Hermione-e-e! Get up already, you will doze away the time!" Hermione shivered - someone pulled her blanket off and interfered with her dream.  
Her…dream?  


She quickly got out of bed. Yes, it was just a dream. Hermione felt both relief and disappointment that she never got a chance to look inside the room she was rushing towards along the cold school hallway.  


"Wow! What a surprise! I didn’t expect to wake you up so soon," the red-haired troublemaker flopped down on the bed. "You aren't mad at me, are you?"  


Hermione frowned at her. It's difficult to answer clearly considering the fact that she asked Ginny so many times not to wake her up in such a manner. But there was absolutely no point talking about it: the youngest Weasley will do whatever she wants anyway.  


Hermione looked around. A familiar small bedroom was upholstered in wood and barely had enough room for a small bed, a desk and a wardrobe. However, despite all that, the room was very bright and cozy. Pictures of the Weasley family hung on the walls: here they are in Egypt, all happy and tanned, waving at her; here they are at King's Cross Station, no longer at full strength with Charlie, Bill and Percy are missing from it; on the other magical photograph there were only Ginny and the twins, sitting on the porch of their house and laughing themselves to tears over something. Hermione's heart sank painfully as she looked at Fred. So carefree on the picture and doesn't know that very soon the war will take away his life, and a little part of everyone who has ever known his cheerful boy personally with it.  


Hermione shook her head, trying to put away the disturbing memories that still made her cry into her pillow after so many years.  


"What time is it?" she asked Ginny sleepily.  


Ginny broke into a wide smile and threw back her long flame red hair.  


"It's six in the morning, honey! Great things await us!" Ginny said enthusiastically, jumped off the bed, and walked towards the exit with light dancing motions. "Now – get dressed while I make us some tea."  


Hermione opened her mouth in indignation, trying to say something, but then silently closed it. No, this has gone too far. Ginny is always waking her up, but not this early! The rising anger made her fists clench. At that very moment, the door slammed shut, announcing that the youngest Weasley was already gone.  


"Ginevra Molly Weasley!" Hermione raised her voice and said sternly. "Come back immediately and tell me why in the name of Merlin you woke me up so early!"  
The door carefully opened, and a guiltily smiling face of a red-haired witch appeared in the split.  


"Please, Hermione, don't be angry! I know that I have no excuse, but there’s something important that I want to share with you. And remember, I can hardly do this if you sharpen your Unforgivable Curses skills on me," Ginny rattled and finally stepped back into the room.  


Hermione stared in bewilderment at her friend who, it seemed, couldn't find a place for herself and looked lost. There was no trace of the younger Weasley's cheerful carelessness. Is it just her or is Ginny terribly nervous? Hermione assumed that from the very beginning she was just trying to hide her real emotions under the guise of exhilaration, but now they took over.  


"What's the matter, Ginny?" Hermione asked worriedly, peering into her face. This behavior was atypical for a tomboy like Ron's little sister. What made her so nervous?  


"I don't know where to start.Generally speaking, it’s not like this was unexpected or anything..." nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Ginny sat down next to Hermione, trying not to meet her gaze. "But still, I want you to be the first one to know about this as soon as possible."  


After these words, hiding her eyes, she nervously got out of the bed again and went to the window. Hermione patiently watched her, mentally scrolling through various options for what Ginny could tell her. Perhaps it has something to do with Ron? Ginny used to tell Hermione all sorts of ridiculous stories that her brother was involved in. Or is it related to Ginny's mother, Molly? She hasn't been feeling very well lately, what if something has happened? No, though. In either case, Ginny hardly would have acted this way. Suddenly, a vague guess came to Hermione. What if...  


As if continuation of her thoughts, Ginny took a deep breath and decisively turned around, looking at Hermione intently:  


"Harry proposed to me and I said yes, so now... We are getting married!"  


Hermione froze in shock. Suddenly everything came together into a single picture. Of course, how could she not have guessed right away?!  


In few seconds, a whole range of feelings blossomed in Hermione's heart: amazement, followed by shock, then epiphany with awareness of the situation and, in the end, sincere joy.  


"Basically, it’s pretty unsurprising, I mean, we have been planning to get married for a long time, but..." before Ginny finished, she was almost strangled in Hermione's arms.  


"Oh, Merlin, I'm so happy for you two! Ginny, this is amazing!" Tears of happiness welled up in Hermione's eyes.  


After all, from the very beginning she saw how the love of Harry and Ginny was born, how much they both had to suffer in order to be together. Hermione knew that Ginny was looking forward with all her heart to the next step in the development of her relationship with Harry, but for some reason Potter was in no hurry to ask her to marry him. It seemed that until the very last moment he couldn’t believe that the war was over, his beloved ones were no longer in danger, and everything was just fine. Only over the past year, Harry began to change in a quite noticeable way, slowly coming out of a state of lingering melancholy. And Hermione suspected that a marriage proposal from him wouldn’t be long in coming.  


And now she was so sincerely delighted for her friends that her heart was bursting with happiness, as if she had been proposed. But to be honest, Hermione received such an offer once, albeit not quite as directly.  


Ron started talking about their future together once. At that moment he blushed long and hard, shifting from foot to foot, but still blurted out in one breath: "I would like us to get married. So, we’d have a big house and lots of children. Well, or something like that."  


At the time, they had already dated for about two years and were close enough to move on to a new stage of the relationship, only Hermione doubted whether she needed it now: a wedding, a family, children. She worked at the Ministry of Magic almost day and night, and therefore it was very difficult to find the time for anything else.  


But one thing was absolutely clear: Hermione had become incredibly and deeply attached to Ron during the entire time of their school years, and the war had made them almost a single whole. But did she really love him – the guy who was ready to do anything for her, whose puppy loyalty left no doubt that he really adored her? It was one of the few questions Hermione didn't know the answer to.  


She was undoubtedly very grateful to Ron for every minute they spent together, except when he acted like a complete fool; but even that couldn't spoil her sincere affection for this lanky red-haired guy.  


For a while, it even seemed to her that it was true love. But the longer they dated, the more she realized that her "love" is more of a sisterly feeling than what is usually said "lived happily ever after” about. And, nevertheless, she continued to go on dates with him, accept and give gifts, kiss him gently or passionately hug him at night. It was all so... Simple? Habitually? Right?  


The Weasleys became her family; almost no one doubted that in the near future Hermione would also bear their name and be considered an official member of this good-natured pure-blood dynasty.  


However, on that day, almost six months ago, she behaved very differently from what Ron had expected: Hermione was silent for a long time and, finally, started stuttering that "they need to think about it, it's too early, they aren’t ready for such a serious step". Ron looked utterly unhappy and blushed more and more every minute. Hermione probably felt no better, for she knew perfectly well that now she could lose him forever. It turned into another argument, but, thanks to her wisdom, the conflict soon was subsided. In the end, together they decided to cool off a bit and think things over. Both knew that they needed to take time out in the relationship and return to a friendship. But still, it was obvious to both of them that everything, in reality, was up to Hermione. She’d only had to hint – and they’d be back together.  


But six months have passed, and she hasn’t decided anything; instead of figuring out herself, Hermione seemed to become even more confused about her feelings and desires. It was unbearable to see the eternal painful question in Ron's eyes, but it became even more unbearable because she couldn’t answer it in any way. She couldn't yet.  


"Hey Hermione! Hermione-e-e! You're crushing me!" Ginny said playfully, pushing her away from her, and immediately added anxiously: "Is something wrong?"  


And Hermione, smiling sadly, just shook her head. On this bright day, there should be no place for sadness, especially in the life of her best friend which Ginny has become over the past three years.  


"How can something be wrong when two of my dearest friends are getting married?!" Hermione asked, trying to distract herself from gloomy thoughts and at the same time hoping that Ginny wouldn’t ask her about the reasons for the fleeting sadness. "But now I'm only interested in the answer to one question: when?"  


"I don’t know," Ginny replied with a perky laugh. "You see, Harry asked me to marry him just half an hour ago."  


"This early? He woke you up just to ask you to marry him?!" Hermione was surprised at the originality of her friend.  


"Well, we haven't slept for a long time... If you know what I mean," the red-haired beast winked and looked at her meaningfully, which made Hermione's cheeks slightly flushed.  


Of course, she has known for a long time about the rich intimate life of her friend and turned to her for advice herself more than once. Ginny wasn’t easily embarrassed, but she herself could make anyone blush with her immodest stories. However, it was thanks to her that Hermione was well informed in matters of sex. The younger Weasley gave her detailed instructions on how to behave on the first night with a man, even if this man was her brother.  


"Okay, I have to go back to Harry, he is probably worried," Hermione was torn from her memories by Ginny's voice, and then she headed for the exit from the room. "Once again, forgive me for waking you up, but it was all soooo unexpected ... I just couldn't help but share with you, you know."  


Hermione smiled softly.  


"Of course I know. Thank you for telling me about the wedding first. I really do appreciate it," she thanked her sincerely, giving her friend an affectionate look.  


In response, Ginny hugged her tightly again, trying to put into this embrace all the feelings that she experienced, and then immediately disappeared behind the door.  


Well, really, the news wasn’t unexpected for Hermione. Everyone has been talking about the upcoming wedding of Harry and Ginny for a long time, not in the least doubt that this event is not far off. Hermione was undoubtedly happy for her best friends, only now... Why was something gnawing at her heart so hard? Probably because people talked about their wedding with Ron just as much, but the hopes were never fulfilled.  


"You’re probably wondering why we gathered you all so urgently," Ginny said in her sonorous voice, which made everyone hushed at once, and an absolute silence reigned in the room.

The small living room of the Weasley house was crowded with people: puzzled Ron; grinning George with his fiancée Jane; Bill, tenderly embracingbeautiful Fleur; a slightly pompous Percy (it's need to mention that his arrogance has diminished over the past four years); stocky Charlie, who didn't seem to have changed at all; Mister and Missis Weasley, looking expectantly at their daughter with the shadow of a slight smile – it felt like they knew what was going on; shy and still a littleawkward Neville Longbottom, and next to him imperturbable Luna Lovegood, with her radish-shaped earrings that periodically changed their color; huge Hagrid in his horrible dress suit and finally Hermione, who looked at her friends with an encouraging smile.

"And not to further test your patience…" Ginny continued, "Harry will take a word." She smiled radiantly at her future husband who was, to put it mildly, surprised that he would have to do the honors.

"You have to do it, Harry," Ginny whispered seriously so only the two of them could hear, but Hermione read her lips.

Harry pulled himself together and looked around at all the people in the hall who had been with him all this time. Surprisingly, he wasn't afraid of a fight with the darkest wizard of all time, he wasn’tafraid of the dangers that awaited him at every step, he wasn’t afraid to die at any moment. But now... There was a feeling that a nasty lump was stuck in his throat, and he looked like he’d been hit with Confundus, and more than once. Harry took a deep breath and glanced at his friends: Hermione smiled at him encouragingly, noticing out of the corner of her eye Ron looking around all confused. It looks like Harry never had time to tell his best friend, although he probably knew that Hermione was aware.

Finally, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, Harry blurted out:

"Ginny and I decided to get married. The wedding will be in the fall, in September, although we haven't yet decided on the exact date."

"And we want you all to be with us on this happy day," Ginny added, blushing slightly. "It’svery important to us."

For several seconds there was such silence as if those present were digesting what they’d just heard, and then everything exploded with a dozen joyful voices, and everyone rushed to congratulate the future newlyweds.

Hermione leaning against the doorframe, watched the joyful bustle that reigned in the living room. Harry and Ginny were drowned in the warm embrace of friends and family, so only sheand Ron remained in their places. Ron? Hermione quickly looked at her friend, who stood rooted to the spot with a petrified face. "This was expected," flashed through Hermione's head, and she walked over to him.

"Ron... " Hermione called him, but he didn’tpay any attention, and only when her hand touched his shoulder, slightly shuddered. Choosing her words carefully, Hermione continued:"Ron, they've been dating for a long time and it's not such a surprise..."

"Did you know?" he cut her off abruptly, diligently examining the blue vase.

Hermione was at a loss for a while, but immediately pulled herself together:

"I… Don’t think that I found out about this long ago, just…"

Ron again didn't let her finish. Instead, he clenched his fists, turned towards her and finally looked straight in her eyes.

"You knew."

From his lips, this phrase sounded like an accusation, and only now Hermione understood the reason for his displeasure.

"He didn't tell me either, Ron. Ginny did - earlier this morning when everyone was still asleep. I'm not even sure Harry knows about that," she said quietly without looking away. "Besides, I think your grievances are quite inappropriate in this case. Just look how happy they are."

Hermione waved her hand towards her friends. Hagrid was just wiping away the tears that had come up with a huge dirty handkerchief, hugging Ginny with his other hand, while Missis Weasley was kissing Harry on both cheeks. The flushed younger Weasley, seeing that Ron and Hermione were looking at her, waved her hand and made a face at her brother. Hermione waved back and looked at Ron warily. It seems, two conflicting feelings were struggling inside him, as you could tell by the way he clenched and unclenched his fists and shifted from foot to foot. Finally, he lifted his head proudly and walked towards Harry and Ginny.

"Ron!" Hermione called him, but he just waved her off and kept walking. She bit her lip, silently praying that he wouldn't do something stupid.

Harry smiled apologetically when he saw his friend. The round glasses slid slightly to one side, and the already disobedient head of hair seemed to be even more disheveled. When there were only a few steps left between the friends, Ron stopped abruptly and looked at Harry with some challenge, then turned his gaze to Ginny:

"And I, by the way, already knew everything. Knew he would propose to you."

"And how did you “know”?" Ginny teased her brother, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I accidentally found the ring while looking for my Quidditch gloves," Ron smiled somewhat embarrassed. "And, well, uumh...congratulations!"

Ron embraced his sister awkwardly and then after a moment of hesitation he shook Harry's hand.

"Take care of her, mate," he said sentimentally, looking firmly at his friend."I don’t know why, but she loves you more than all of us put together."

"And I love her more than my life," Harry replied seriously after which Ron nodded curtly and sniffing walked aside.

It was an incredibly touching moment. Hermione wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and walked over to her best friends. Without a word she hugged Ginny and then Harry tightly. She was sure that they would understand everything without further ado. And after hearing a quiet "Thank you" from Harry, she was convinced that she was right.

* * *  


_20.07.2002_

_I remember the moment when I saw her for the first time. It was somewhere in Italy, in one of those similar cities that differ only by name. By that time, father had already been in prison for two years and mother having fallen into a prolonged depression often brightened up her endless loneliness with alcohol. As for me, I was just trying to get away from my filthy life moving from city to city. Letters from so-called "friends", relatives and those who needed something from me (as a rule, they were bastards from the Ministry of Magic) chased after me like hounds. The meaning of all the letters was the same, with the only difference in the wording: while Parkinson begged to return to his mother's family estate and asked "to stop running away from all this shit that remained after the war", Lucius, on the contrary, argued that I in fact was "a cowardly shit that is not worthy to bear the proud name Malfoy". Fuck you Lucius, even though you're right as always. Only I don't care about that, as I don't care about the drunken letters from my mother, claiming that I'm an ungrateful brute. And I don't care about the fall of the Dark Lord. Don't give a damn about the whole filthy life left in England._

_In general, I don’tremember what brought me to Italy, but I remember why. I also remember the moment when I first met her._

_With short and thin black hair and long slanting bangs that covered half of her face, she somehow resembled a boy with her unhealthy thinness and deathly pale skin. She seemed to be the only girl in this dilapidated old pub, although of course she wasn't. It's just that all the others faded in comparison with her unusual appearance for Italy. She was sitting at a table in the company of four suspicious-looking dorks in shabby robes and was talking loudly in Italian, actively gesturing. I walked over to the bar wondering if she was local or not, and ordered a double shot of Fire whis key from the sad-eyed old bartender. After taking a long sip I continued to watch her. Ash, shabby, but undoubtedly expensive mantle, skin too pale for an Italian woman, which seemed to glow in the dim light of the room, a daring short haircut, big black eyes, heavily lined with black - there was a certain challenge and something else..._

_I was distracted from my thoughts by the chesty voice of the bartender who said someone's name – Elisa Carrera. Looking around I saw that he was looking at me. The glance was obviously addressed me. When I asked what he was talking about, the old man wearily explained that the girl I was staring at was Elisa Carrera. She came here every Friday for almost a whole year, and all the time she was trying to squabble with someone. The bartender also said that the girl's personality wasn't that sweet, so it's better not to even approach her, especially when she's talking to "those ones". I looked in their direction and saw that they were wrying their mouths in displeasure, listening to a furious tirade in their address from the brunette, and I decided that the bartender was right._

_Having dryly thanked the old man for the information, I again turned in her direction. Elisa Carrera. I rolled this name on my tongue as if tasting it, and at that moment she fell silent and looked at me. Slightly narrowed her eyes, she gave me a look as if challenging my strength, receiving the same look back from me. This silent game ended with us sitting at the same table just an hour later, and shagging in a cheap hotel room two hours later. At the moment I didn't fully realize what all this would lead up to, but had a vague feeling that from that moment on my life would change drastically. And I was right._

_P.S. It's weird as hell, but I think you're the only one I can tell all this nonsense about my life. Even though you are just a diary._

_D. M._

Hello guys! I’m the author of this work - Jane Evans, and it’s very exciting for me to present it to you. I want to thank the translators Triss666 and sannflower, as well as the editor kkhamova, who made it possible. I hope that the “The Maze of Memory" will find it’s place in hearts of English-speaking readers, and, nevertheless, I will be very grateful for your feedback and comments on the text so that we can make it better for you. The main action starts around Chapter 3, so if you want to find out what the story has to do with the resort, dancing, passion on the seashore and, of course, the magic of love, then you better subscribe so you wouldn’t miss an update! We’ll be glad to see everyone. ☺️

My Instagram account:  
https://www.instagram.com/jane_evans_books/

My patreon account:  
https://www.patreon.com/jane_evans_books/


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Soundtrack – Nelly Furtado «All Good Things»_

"So, another “emergency call”?" Ron asked in a bored tone, idly flipping through the Quidditch Today magazine.

Hermione answered from the next room:

"Yes, violation of article seventy-five point one. Merlin, where's that damn book?"

It was Sunday morning, and outside the window was a wonderful July day. The sun seemed to penetrate every nook and cranny of the house, clearly intending to leave no room for darkness and gloom. It was one of those days when the Weasley house most accurately conveyed the atmosphere that reigned in this close-knit family. Small, multi-storey and seemingly ridiculous, it seemed to radiate with comfort and warm light. Each piece of the interior and its details spoke for themselves: this is the well-worn furniture, exuding a light woody aroma; and the colorful rugs knitted by Mrs. Weasley herself; and slightly uneven handmade clay pots that protect various types of magical plants, as well as a wonderful clock that shows the location of each family member at any given time, the creak of floorboards that instantly detects someone's steps, and, of course, a cheerful noise of voices, which, never seemed to be silent even for a second.

Anyone who has ever been to the Burrow would like to come here again. And, as a rule, he did: the doors were always open for guests.

"What article?" Ron asked, but when he heard a fuss in the next room instead, added: "What are you looking for anyway?"

"That’s it, I found it!" Hermione appeared at the doorway with a thick book in her hand. "The article seventy-five point one - Violation of the law on the restriction of use of magic in relation to Muggle electrical appliances in the presence of persons who threaten the privacy of the Wizarding World," she explained with slight irritation.

"Did you learn the whole what's-its-name code?" Ron asked in a dazed voice, without taking his eyes off the huge tome.

Hermione gave him a murderous look and answered dryly:

"This whole thing, Ron, is called the Wizarding World's Criminal Code."

"Who cares?" Ron waved her off. "I don’t need it anyway."

Hermione shook her head reproachfully, but didn’t pursue the topic any further. Instead, she went into the hallway where she ran into Harry who, apparently, had just woken up.

"Good morning!" Potter said with a yawn. But looking at Hermione he added - "Where are you going so early? It’s only nine in the morning!"

"The emergency call from the Ministry," Hermione replied as she was putting her shoes on. "Someone planted an enchanted hairdryer in the Muggle family."

"So what, they can't cope without you?!" Harry's eyes widened. "Come on, Hermione! You’re already do the work of three men, seven days a week!"

"I'm just doing my job," Hermione explained for the hundredth time and opened the front door. "That’s it, I'm gone! I'll be back soon."

The door closed behind her, and there was a dull bang of the Apparition.

***

"Yeah, that’s what she always says, but she comes back almost at night," said Ron displeased, still leafing through the magazine. "As long as I live, I’m more and more convinced that people don’t change."

"You'd think you're a hundred years old," Harry said with a grin as he entered the living room.

"Quite possible! You know, I’ve heard somewhere that the psychological age of a person is sometimes very different from the biological one," Ron said with a smart look.

"I’ll only agree if it turns out that your psychological age is no more than thirteen," Ginny said as she descended the stairs.

She deftly dodged the sofa cushion Ron threw at her, then walked over to Harry and gave him a kiss.

"Good morning to you too, sis," Ron sneered, at which Ginny made a face at him.

"Actually, to be honest, I'm worried about Hermione," Harry plopped down on the sofa, pulling his fiancée to him. "She became a little irritable."

“You don’t say," Ron frowned. Hermione had been giving him a hard time lately.

Of course, he had been guilty of many things himself, but Hermione had been far more tolerant before.

"In my opinion, this isn’t surprising: Hermione has’t had a single vacation since she started working in the Ministry four years ago," Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry. "Anyone would grow irritable, even if it's Hermione Granger with her inhuman ability to work."

"Hmmm, she could use some time off," Ron muttered. "Maybe that’d make her nicer."

For a while everyone fell silent, lost in their own thoughts. The silence was broken by Harry, who looked like he had an idea.

“Time off, that’s right!" he slapped himself on the forehead. "I completely forgot to tell you! I have some great news!"

Potter even jumped off the sofa with excitement and turned to face his friends:

"Do you remember four years ago, when the war was over, the Ministry announced on every corner that “Harry Potter and his brave friends will definitely receive a reward for saving the Wizarding World” and all that stuff?"

"Yeah, that does ring a bell," said Ron thoughtfully and then slammed his fist down on the table: "What a twaddlers! They promised us mountains and performed molehills!"

"Don't get all worked up, Ron. Let Harry finish," Ginny said irritably to her brother who immediately stop talking and send her a frown.

"So," Harry continued ignoring his friend's comment. "Yesterday when I was at the Ministry Stevius Colman summoned me to his office. And guess what he said?"

"I'm afraid to guess," said Ginny, who didn’t like the new Minister of Magic at all. In her opinion, he spoke too much and did too little. Stevius Colman wasn’t a bad person, but, unfortunately, he had no leadership skills at all. Ginny often said that there was no better Minister than Kingsley Shacklebolt, and her friends agreed with her. They often made common attempts to persuade him to accept the post of Minister which he was repeatedly offered by the Ministry of Magic itself, but he only waved it off vaguely saying that “it’s not the time yet.” However, there were rumors that Stevius Colman was about to leave his seat giving it up to Kingsley, and the friends were looking forward to this moment.

"Colman apologized for such a long implementation of the reward and expressed the hope that I would accept a gift from the Ministry of four trip vouchers to Italy, for a start. To “the best resort in the Wizarding World,” he said. What was the name of it... Mmm... La magnolia... Miabella... La bella..."

Harry wrinkled his forehead trying to remember the name, but seeing his friends’ strange reaction he asked:

"Is something wrong?"

Ron and Ginny looked stunned.

"Not “La Bella Magnolia”, by any chance?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Oh, exactly! “La Bella Magnolia”! What a name!" Harry exclaimed, but grimly added, "I told Colman that I’d think about it. Although I wanted to refuse at first. After the war, in which we could rely on ourselves only without receiving almost any support from the Ministry, I wouldn’t want to accept any handouts from the government, to put it mildly. Nevertheless, I understand that if I refuse, it will be even worse: they won’t leave me alone, and Colman gently hinted at this today. He, you see, feels an urgent need to compensate “the moral damage caused for such a long delay in fulfilling the promise” somehow. That's how he put it."

"Doesn't he want to compensate for his lack of brains?" Ginny said crossing her arms over her chest. "Even four vouchers to the best resort in the Wizarding World are nothing compared to what we all had to go through 'thanks' the Ministry's shortsightedness."

"Ginny, you're right, of course. But on the other hand, why not take the opportunity?" Ron responded quickly trying to convince her. "Harry's not going to lose anything by accepting these vouchers anyway. He himself said that the Ministry wouldn’t leave him alone in any case. So why provoke an unnecessary conflict? Am I right, Harry?"

Ron looked at his friend with hope seeking his approval. Harry said nothing and closed his eyes for a second as if trying to concentrate, but soon he spoke slowly in a completely different tone:

"Yes, Ron. I think you’re right about some things: if my consent is the best way out of this situation, it would be foolish not to take the opportunity."

Hearing his friend's words, Ron snapped his fingers triumphantly and nodded approvingly leaning forward a little. But Harry not noticing this, thoughtfully continued to reason further with a slight smile:

"And imagine how great it would be for the four of us to go somewhere for a couple of weeks and relax! Moreover, we have been planning to do something like this for so long, and, besides, everyone will soon have a vacation leave…"

It seemed that Harry was already carried away into a fairy tropical world, but the everyday reality made him take a sober look at the situation. The dreamy smile instantly disappeared from his face, and a painful question appeared in his eyes.

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily.

"So, it’s up to you, really" he said finally. "I'd never have defeated Voldemort without you, which means that no one would have offered me these permits, no matter how silly it may sound. So I can say that their fate is rightfully in your hands. I still doubt whether it's worth accepting such a gift from the Ministry. Well, what do you think?"

Harry glanced at Ron and Ginny and for a moment got scared that he had said something wrong.

They looked at him like he was a squid that suddenly started speaking.

"Are you really still asking us what we think about it?!" Ron finally said. "Harry, are you an idiot?"

"Stop it, Ron," his sister interrupted. "Harry has obviously never heard of “Magnolia”. And by the way, his thoughts about the Ministry and their handouts are quite reasonable."

"Ginny, he’ll have more problems if he refuses Colman’s offer than if he accepts these vouchers! Besides, Harry's thoughts of a long-planned vacation are also “quite reasonable”," Ron mimicked his sister.

Harry sat down on the sofa and straightened his slightly slipped glasses.

"Wait a minute. What should I've heard about this resort, and how does this relate to Colman's proposal?"

Ginny hugged her feancé and after kissing him on the forehead gently, began explaining softly: "Dear, to be completely honest, these vouchers aren't just a good gift from the Ministry, it's a great gift! I know that nothing can compensate for all the losses of the war years, but this trip will at least help you to reboot and relax."

"“La Bella Magnolia”* is considered the best resort in the Magic World, many wizards dream to visit it at least once in their life!" Ron continued enthusiastically pronouncing the name of the resort with an Italian accent and added with slight annoyance: "But not everyone succeeds in fulfilling their dream because it's incredibly expensive. Harry, I didn't even dare thinking about resting there, you see?"

"Yes, it’s expensive, but it’s worth it: I've heard many stories of seriously ill wizards recovering from their illnesses just by swimming in the sea on the shore where “Magnolia” is located," Ginny interrupted Ron. "And they also say that once in this place, you can truly get to know yourself and find your one true path in order to live your life happily. Although... These are just rumors. By the way, there are many legends about “Magnolia”..."

"Generally speaking, Harry, this is really a once in a lifetime opportunity. You’ve got to take it, mate!" not letting his sister finish Ron said impatiently while grabbing Harry's hand, and Harry... He was still at a loss.

These two didn't even let him get a word in.

What kind of place is this, if even Ginny is inclined to accept Colman's gift?

There was a loaded silence hung in the room for a while: Harry pondered the words of his friends, as they awaited his verdict. Finally, he started: "Well, I decided ... That tomorrow I'll go to the Minister and accept those vouchers! And in August we’re all going to have a vacation in this, u-u-um... “La Bella Magnolia”!"

"Yes! Great decision, mate!" Ron happily threw his fist in the air and briskly jumped off the couch to give Harry a brother-like hug. Yes, Harry had no doubt that Ron would approve his decision. But now he was more interested in what Ginny had to say. It looks like she wasn't all so sure whether they made the right call or not.

"Ginny, honey, what do you think? You have the last say in this," Harry asked carefully, tilting his head to the side.

Ginny looked confused and bit her lip nervously.

"Harry, this gift is too expensive... After all, these vouchers are your reward. Maybe you would like to find them a better use?"

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief and laughed softly. If only this is the case, then...

He took her chin and looked in her eyes:

"Ginny, the Minister advised me to share my “well-deserved rest” with loved ones. I know you think he’s a fool, but I totally agree with him on this one. I have no one closer than you, Ron and Hermione. And if I decide to spend my vacation at this resort, it’ll be only with all of you. But if you don’t want to go there, I will understand and refuse these vouchers: after all, you are my fiancée, who I’m madly in love with and whose opinion I value."

After these words, Harry pulled her closer to himself and kissed her gently. During the whole time of their relationship, there weren't even a day passed that Harry didn't thank fate for sending him Ginny. Next to her, he forgot the horror of the past, and the deep wounds left by the war seemed to heal faster. She was a friend, a mother and a beloved woman at the same time. Her ability to change her roles has always impressed Harry as well as the fact that she could feel him like no other could. She divined all his desires and always knew what’s the right thing to say.

Each of their kiss was like the first. Even now he didn't want to tear himself away from her soft lips, but Ron's displeased cough made him do it.

"Of course, I understand everything, but we still have one unresolved question," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ron, you're in your repertoire as always," Ginny said displeasedly, reluctantly pulling away from Harry. In her fourth year she noticed her brother's amazing ability to intervene at the worst possible moment.

"Surprisingly, I agree with Ron this time," Potter said with a slight smile gazing into Ginny's face. "We haven't made a final decision and everything depends only on you."

Ginny looked suspiciously from Harry to Ron who was looking imploringly at her, and she finally said with an exhale:

"Okay, I agree!" but the boys didn't have time to rejoice as she immediately added: "But there is one “but”."

Guys looked at each other in confusion and at that moment everyone heard a ringing voice from the hallway:

"Alright, I’m back! Fast as promised! I bet you didn't expect me back so soon."

And that's when they realized what Ginny meant.

"Hermione…" all three said in unison.

* * *

_July 25, 2002_

_London is pouring with rain. El says that I again fell into melancholy and "we immediately have to do something about it". Her attempts to get me out of this state were always amusing, although rarely fully effective. But I must admit: this crazy Italian woman still managed to distract me. Hopefully this time she comes up with something less exotic than riding angry dragons. Now I understand what it was like for Potter and the other idiots who competed for the Goblet of fucking Fire under the nose of a crazy fire-breathing creature._

_El and I have been staying at my family estate for two months now. Mother likes her, which was to be expected. I even stopped drinking. Increasingly, she hints at a wedding, children and other pink stuff that I don't need at all. What does El think about this? I don't know. I've always liked the fact that she never pushed me, never asked me to treat her in any special way and didn't hint at the "seriousness of our relationship" as Parkinson often did during the period of our stupid half-child "love"... Sweet El. And how does she put up with me?_

_Mother mentioned that Lucius is returning from Azkaban, she also said that he is almost managed to settle everything. Oh, Merlin, how often have I heard those filthy words - "he ALMOST got it all settled." Damn, Lucius. He was always ready to "settle everything," but as a result, our family was just once again trampled into the mud._

"Well, what are you writing about in your diary this time, Draco? Oh, wait: I'm never meant to read this, right?" 

Draco flinched in surprise and looked up from the yellowed pages. There was El standing in the doorway, Elisa Carrera, who rapidly changed the course of his life. Draco gave her an appraising look and grinned. During their year-long relationship, she became noticeably prettier, regained the once-lost gloss. Refined, with neatly styled short black hair and barefoot and in a navy blue dress, she looked gorgeous. Draco was facing a different girl, not that desperate one she once was when he first met a year ago in a cheap Italian pub.

Not a trace of the slanting bangs remained, the worn-out mantle had long been replaced by expensive clothes made of exclusive fabrics that not all even the wealthiest wizards could buy. However, Malfoy could afford a lot, and he was never stingy with El's whims. And so, in front of him was a gorgeous woman who knew exactly what she was worth and what she deserved.

Draco put the journal down, muttering a protective spell, so no one could open it, and got up from his chair. Elisa glanced at him smiling slightly from the corners of her lips. From the very first night she learned that he has a habit of writing down almost every moment of his life.

But Draco has never said why he kept diaries, nor why it was so important, and El, fortunately, didn't pry into his confidence.

"Quite right, dear," Draco said gently, slowly closing the distance to Elisa. "Unfortunately, you will never read a line from there, unless I'll want it."

"Mio caro Draco**, it's enough for me to “read you”," El purred with an Italian accent.

Malfoy grinned and gently pulled Elisa closer to him.

"This must be pretty damn difficult," he whispered in her ear, sending goosebumps down El’s body.

"You can't even imagine how much," she breathed and drowned in his kiss.

* La Bella Magnolia – (it.) "The Beautiful Magnolia", the name of the resort;

** Mio caro Draco – (it.) My dear Draco;


	3. Chapter 3

_Soundtrack – Eros Ramazzotti «Un Cuore Con Le Ali»_

____

____

"I have some news for you."  


Draco was too relaxed to listen to the news. They were laying in a huge luxurious bed, completely naked, barely covered by sheets. It was stuffy in the room, but they haven’t even had the strength to open the window. Draco was gradually drifting off to sleep. But it wasn’t meant to be – Elisa insistently pushed him in the back:  


"Draco, the news is very important."  


With a frustrated groan, Draco turned to her. El was already sitting on the bed, wrapped in a sheet as if it was a Greek toga. There was something in her hand... A letter? Draco leaned against the mattress.  


"What’s this?"  


"What does it look like?" El answered nervously. "It's from my father’s brother, Lorenzo. Draco, this is crazy."  


Draco stared at her blankly. El told him about her family: her mother she’d lost as a child, her father had been a pure-blood noble wizard in Italy but died under mysterious circumstances two years ago, leaving El to deal with his debts without any support. But this was the first time Draco had heard of Lorenzo.  


Seeing his obvious confusion, Elisa continued:  


"This is my uncle. Ten years ago he left without telling anyone exactly where he was going. For a while we thought he was dead."  


She spoke nervously, abruptly, as if every word was a little torture for her. Draco sat up on the bed. Not a trace of drowsiness remained.  


"He regularly wrote that everything was fine, but it was impossible to trace his location: all owls returned with our undelivered letters, apparently never getting to him."  


Her voice faded away:  


"He didn’t even come to my father’s funeral."  


Draco looked up sharply. It had been a long time since he'd seen El so excited and depressed at the same time. Usually, Elisa could find the upside in any trouble and get sincerely distracted from the problem at the same time, but the letter she received from Lorenzo clearly knocked her out of the rut. Apparently, the situation was pretty serious, and Draco, was pretty damn annoyed that El had never told him about this part of her family history. She had learned everything that Draco thought she should know about him, of course: the Malfoys had always been known for their terseness and for not saying more than absolutely necessary. This skill has saved the life of Lucius and his entire family more than once. Draco smiled grimly – you can't run away from fate forever: even his father's vaunted talent for getting out of any shit had failed him.  


Draco was distracted from his thoughts of Lucius by a rustle as El began to fiddle with the letter. She was biting her lip nervously, and there was confusion in her eyes.  


"He says he wants to see us. At “La Bella Magnolia”."  


Draco's mouth dropped open in surprise. He hadn’t expected such a turn. But at the same time, the picture of what was happening instantly turned into dark colours in Draco's head, which got reflected on his face. Elisa knew that look, that wry, bitter smile that didn’t bode well, so she involuntarily cringed beforehand, waiting for Draco's words as a sentence.  


"Not a bad place to meet after a long time away from your devastated niece, El," Draco said in a frighteningly nonchalant voice, and got up from the bed. His eyes were drawn to a half-empty bottle of collectible Firewhiskey of special aging: he liked to sip on a glass when he was in a special mood. Apparently, the moment of that "special mood" has come.  


El swallowed involuntarily.  


"Mmm… I think I've been through this before," Draco casually splashed Firewhiskey into his glass and pointedly stared into the distance. "Let me guess, El. Your dear uncle was once sitting in an abandoned pub at the edge of the world drinking his sixth glass of strong liquor when he heard from one of the drunks that his long-abandoned and ruined niece, Elisa Carrera, has a rich boyfriend. Yes, it’s not just a boyfriend, it’s Draco Malfoy himself, the heir to a huge fortune. And what about Lorenzo? After all, he’s clearly not a fool if he managed to hide his whereabouts for so long, leading all of you a dance. He foresaw that, obviously, the Malfoy boy is ready to help in this difficult situation not only the beloved niece of Lorenzo, but also, out of the kindness of his heart, her entire family. And since he’s the last living member of your family, it’s logical to assume that he’ll get a big piece of the pie too! And then Lorenzo thought: why not go to the Magnolia, while there is still an opportunity to milk Draco Malfoy? I suppose two or three thousand Galleons won’t be a big hit on his pocket, and Lorenzo, under the guise of a happy family reunion, will be able to taste exclusive scaly tartlets with pumpkin reduction, enjoying the massage given him by a pretty witch from the cover of “Naughty Magic”!”  


Draco took a sip from his glass and gave El a sharp look. She looked like she wanted to destroy him in the most unpleasant way, and he couldn't blame her for that. And what on Earth did she expect from him: did she really expect to soften him and make him believe in the pure intentions of her suddenly revealed uncle?! Unlikely. El knew the real Draco, the way the war had made him: dark, withdrawn, cynical and selfish. Malfoy was cruel and at the same time disgustingly straightforward. All of these qualities that he summarized in himself, Draco called one simple word – realism.  


Draco smiled bitterly, as if his face was going to fume from Elisa's burning gaze.  


"Oh no, don’t give me that look, baby: you know, I always say what I think," he thought, trying to convey the words to her mind.  


Draco expected El to hit him, scream, stomp his feet, curse him, and was even ready to accept it, but instead of all the executions, she just exhaled loudly and somehow went limp.  


Draco looked at her in surprise. And he really thought he'd seen through El, thought he could predict her every move, but he couldn’t be more wrong. Merlin, this is truly a night of discoveries. Elisa sat down exhaustedly on the bed and stared at one point. Draco silently put down his glass and took a step, but then El's hand shot up sharply, blocking his path.  


Tension hung in the air.  


"You think you're right, as always? Don’t you, Draco?"  


El lifted her head and looked defiantly at Malfoy. Her gaze was strained, but at the same time focused, as if she knew something that only she could understand.  


“It was just my guess," Draco said softly. "And after all, you remember perfectly well the story of Parkinson and her unexpectedly “sick” cousin. It's just my experience, El, nothing more."  


Draco knew he might have gone too far, but he didn't want to take back his words. And even more so, he wasn’t in the mood for a showdown right now. Frankly speaking, he didn’t like to argue and quarrel with women at all. It always gives him terrible headaches.  


"You don’t know a damn thing, Draco Malfoy. Apparently, your talent as a diviner died in you at the very moment when you tried to recreate the true picture of what happened to Lorenzo," El said wearily with a slight contempt.  
Malfoy just grinned.  


"Merlin forbid me to have such a talent, El. Although I have heard somewhere that after a second bottle of sherry even I might obtain it."  


Draco almost smiled as he remembered bespectacled dragonfly Trelawney, who often gave heartening death predictions to Potter and his golden crew. She was especially at her best just when, along with her broken drunken speech, a persistent smell of sherry, that Sibyl apparently had the day before, spread through the classroom.  


"You shouldn't be smiling, Draco," Elisa said with grim triumph. "You were so wrong that maybe it will finally make you rethink your attitude towards people a little. Unfortunately for you, not everyone around you is a self-serving bastard who wants to make money at your expense."  


El stood up abruptly and began to eagerly pick up her clothes from the floor, putting them on along the way. Draco watched her with interest. He couldn’t wait to hear the truth, and El's behavior certainly amused him. She must have thought she’d hurt him – she looked too smug right now, but still it was clear that she was having second thoughts. At that moment, Elisa reminded him of Granger in some way when she thought she’d put him, Draco Malfoy, in his place. Stupid Mudblood. If anyone could put him in his place, it was his father and the Dark Lord, not without help of Unforgivable Curses.  


Finally, Elisa straightened to her full height, readjusted her dress and exhaled:  


"He owns the Magnolia and has been there at the resort for the last ten years. That's why owls were coming back – even now, no one knows for sure where it is and how to get there. The Magnolia isn’t on any map, but I’ve heard rumors that it’s somewhere near Italy. And, nevertheless, everything is kept in the strictest secrecy, although it’s not surprising: you’ll not find a second place of this kind in the world, no matter how hard you try.”  


Draco was not just impressed, he was dumbfounded, but outwardly he must have looked unperturbed with the same slight smirk on his face. Good on her – El pulled out a trump card from the deck. Of course, he had heard about the Magnolia more than once: his father's friends often visited this resort. But Lucius himself would always choose work over resting, if that’s what you call his disgusting attempts to launder and make money on everything he touched. Draco knew that the owner of the Magnolia was the richest magician in the wizarding world, but his identity was a mystery to everyone. Draco kept in mind that there were rumors that Lucius was the very wizard, but he never made any comments on the matter. He always reacted this way to gossip that might be good for his reputation.  


"But you said that your family was broke and mired in debt, when in fact it turns out that your uncle is alive and well, drinking coconut milk on the seashore, and more so, he’s one of the richest wizards in the world?!" Draco asked scornfully. "Pff! He left you and your family at the most difficult time, and now writes letters and asks you to come visit?! This is too much even for me, El!"  


She stared into Draco's face for a while, as if she was looking for something important in it at that very moment, but... Most likely, she saw only her reflection in his cold eyes. El bitterly turned away and walked to the window. Draco felt a little guilty, because he was well aware that during all the time they known each other, not once she had seen the warmth in his gaze. Yes, Draco was laughing and smiling at Elisa, but he felt that somewhere deep inside there was still a painful emptiness that had once burned through his iris and seemed to have permanently deprived his eyes of the ability to express emotions. And he's used to it, but El still isn't.  


Draco watched Elisa’s motionless silhouette, saw how uneasy she was breathing, barely coping with emotions. Now he didn’t know what to expect from her, although, he was quite familiar with her peculiar personality. Sometimes Elisa was overly emotional, like a true Italian, but at times even Draco could envy her icy equanimity. Like, for example, when they’d sat at a table in that old dilapidated pub, and she’d coolly told him the story of her hard life.  
Elisa was from an ancient pure-blood dynasty. Their family was considered one of the richest and most noble in Italy. El's mother was English and aristocratic, her father was a pure-blood Italian. Completely dissimilar in character, they still fell in love and got married just a couple of months after meeting. It was the perfect union of two pure-blood families, and everything would have worked out perfectly if not for the sudden death of El's mother. It turned out that she had suffered from a rare disease since early childhood, and in Italy the disease began to progress. The best doctors in the wizarding world fought for her life, but couldn’t help. After the death of El's mother, the Carrera family’s life went downhill. It was as if her father had gone mad, had got involved in some dangerous business tied to blood and money, which had finally led him to being framed. At first, the Carreras went broke, and after that, El’s father mysteriously disappeared into the blue. Elisa, who was used to live in luxury and wealth, was left to fend for herself, completely unprepared for such a life. Her father was soon found dead near their estate. There were no injuries on the body, and the examination was unable to establish how and why he died. At the funeral, there was only El and a couple of close friends who trusted her father until the very end. But the man she was so eager to see at that moment never showed up. And that man was Lorenzo.  


Elisa sniffed. Draco suspected that they were now thinking the same thing: shattered hopes, the collapse of a family, and a complete loss of respect. They had both experienced it, their fates were too similar.  


Draco walked over to Elisa and touched her shoulder lightly. She took a deep breath and turned to face him. There were tears in her eyes, but there was also a stubborn determination.  


"I know you can't understand this, Draco! But I'm sure there was a reason. There was a damn reason for everything! And I won’t give up until I know what happened to Lorenzo then, what happened to my father. Draco, I know I have to go there! I have to, do you understand? I feel that this is the only way for me to get some answers!" El wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "Do you believe me, Draco? Do you trust me? If so, just try to accept it!"  


Draco stared into her tear-stained face, unable to utter a single word. He knew it was pointless to argue this time. He would go to the Magnolia, since it was so important to her. But the feeling of anxiety didn’t go away: Draco was sure that the trip wouldn’t go as smoothly as he would have liked. He felt with all his heart that something was going to happen, something that would turn the usual order of things upside down. It was the same feeling he'd had when he'd met El, but this time it felt like it would be different. Malfoy wrinkled, trying to push away the disturbing thoughts.  


It was night outside, and the moon was generously flooding it with light. The thing was that the light was deceptive and didn't give a single drop of warmth. Draco smiled grimly: it reminded him his own life – bright but meaningless.  
* * *  


They arrived in Cobham exactly at seven in the morning, following the instructions in the official letter with the Magnolia’s symbol. The guide was already waiting at the place – a swarthy boy of about nineteen years old, who spoke excellent English with a slight accent. He was dressed impeccably in ironed white trousers and a shirt, over the top was a light uniform robe with an embroidered magnolia flower on the chest. His whole appearance exuded nobility and some kind of unshakable, almost palpable inner strength. Ron snorted in disdain and pointedly turned away when Hermione and Ginny involuntarily admired the beauty of the Italian, which, apparently, reflected on their faces. After exchanging glances, the two friends shook their heads reproachfully: not like anything else could be expected from Ron.  


It was unusually hot weather in London, and everything seemed like it was about to melt, liquify like butter on a frying pan. The guy who introduced himself as Matteo led them towards a small park, past the Sunday market and shopping malls. The Muggles were completely oblivious to them, which was odd enough considering the appearance of the guide. He was holding an antique walking stick with a magnolia carved on the end, and Hermione guessed that it was probably a portal.  
Finally, they came out to a beautiful deserted park with a small pond, that they started walking towards, but Matteo stopped them and asked to prepare their documents. While Hermione and Ginny rummaged in their small-looking purses, the Italian cast a spell on the surrounding area, explaining this with additional security measures.  


Soon the necessary papers were found, and Matteo began to carefully check them, muttering under his breath charms unknown even to Hermione. Everyone felt a bit uncomfortable as soon as he began using this complex magic to examine everybody present. Goosebumps ran through the body, despite the abnormal heat, and no one could say for sure what was the reason: the icy steam that enveloped everyone in a white haze due to magic, or the strong, unearthly voice of Matteo, fully conveying the powerful energy of the owner.  


It took at least half an hour before the friends were finally told to stand in a circle and touch the cane with their fingers. Matteo looked at everyone intently, then smiled and said imperiously:  
"Well, benvenuti ne “La Bella Magnolia”!" *  


And at that very second they lifted off the ground and in a whirlpool rushed into the unknown. Soon, their feet hit the ground, and, unable to maintain balance, everyone fell together on the gravel, soft as a fluffy carpet. Only Matteo landed with a feline grace, as if he made such journeys through the portal every day. Ron jumped up first and gave the Italian a nasty look before offering his hand to Hermione. With a dry thanks, she got up, dusted off her knees and finally looked straight ahead.  
She didn’t even bother to stop Ron when he swore savagely. To be honest, she was unable to utter a single word: she was so struck by what was in the front of her.  


"Oh, Merlin, this is paradise!" Ginny breathed enthusiastically, and Hermione silently agreed with her.  


Above them towered a truly masterpiece palace of Renaissance architecture, crowned with a painted spherical dome right in the center. The huge hotel, designed in the single style, amazed the imagination with its beauty and luxury. It was impossible to say exactly what kind of color scheme was inherent in it: there were highlights of turquoise, pink, gold, coral, burgundy and many other shades. Perhaps the reason for this was the sunlight, reflected in the multi-colored ornamental glass windows with impressive cornices, or maybe a special magic. The friends eagerly examined every detail of this amazing structure. At the entrance to the palace, were elegant twisted columns, next to it circled creatures of unearthly beauty, which was noticeable even from such a distance: some of them played beautiful music on harps, others joyfully greeted the wizards and told them something.  


"Veela!" Ron exclaimed, peering into the shimmering silhouettes of the beauties. "Ginny, you were right: we are in paradise!"

"Don't get overexcited: I don't want to visit you at St. Mungo's instead of resting at the Magnolia," Ginny said sarcastically.  
However, Ron didn’t listen to her: he, just like everyone else, was stunned by the splendor surrounding him, although, of course, the "splendor" of the Veela seemed much more interesting to him than the abstruseness of the palace architecture.  
Right in front of the hotel, a majestic waterfall spread out in a three-level flowing cascade, surrounded by so many greenery and flowers that its abundance was rippling in the eyes. At each level, streams of fountains, made in the form of the finest magnolias, rose upward. The water, to match the palace, shimmered with all the colours of the rainbow, alternately transforming into the most diverse figures that the human imagination could imagine. Hermione saw a dancing couple, a few seconds later a huge bouquet of flowers, and then the figure of a lion, as if stepping towards the guests. On either side of the waterfall are wide glass staircases leading directly to the foot of the hotel.  
Matteo waited patiently for the guests to come to their senses: it seemed that he had long been accustomed to the impression the Magnolia makes on everyone who sees it for the first time. Hermione had heard that the beauty of the palace was paralyzing, making it impossible to breath.  


"I hope you like our “La Bella Magnolia”!" Matteo said with pride. Apparently, he had never met a wizard who wasn’t impressed by it.  


"This is the most beautiful place on Earth," Hermione whispered, unable to take her eyes off the splendor in front of her.  


"Oh, bella, the most beautiful is yet to come!" the Italian beamingly smiled and looked at her so deeply that Hermione's cheeks turned red. She had heard about the passionate emotionality of Italians, and Matteo certainly had that quality.  


At that very moment, with a dull clap, a house-elf appeared right in front of them, dressed in a white toga with the same magnolia symbol on his chest.  


"Did you call me, Mr. Matteo?" the elf said with devoted reverence, looking at him.  


"Yes, Bruno, please take the guests' belongings to their apartments," Matteo ordered, but at the same moment he looked worriedly at Hermione. "Is there something wrong, signorina?"  


"No, everything is fine, but I’m able to carry my own things by myself," she answered carefully, looking at the elf with pity. Hermione continued to defend her position regarding the unfair treatment of house-elves. When she got a job in the Ministry of Magic, she repeatedly wrote to the Minister with a request to give her the opportunity to deal with cases about the rights of elves and other creatures of the wizarding world, but he answered with silence. Maybe he just didn’t read them: Colman didn’t have much time to deal with the "stupid quirks" of his employees. Anyway, that's what Hermione thought.  


"Sorry, donna, but that’s out of the question: the contract you signed stipulates that you give us every right to take care of you and your belongings, even if you consider it unnecessary. And your personal, during the vacation, house-elf Bruno will be happy to help you. You just need to call him."  


Hermione wanted to protest, but Matteo continued calmly:  


"Besides, we have a short walk around the hotel and some paperwork. Believe me, donna, you will be extremely uncomfortable even with such a small-looking bag."  


Harry and Ron looked at each other and stifled a laugh: they knew perfectly well that Hermione had used her skills of ingenuity and magic to fit all the belongings of four friends in two small clutches.  


"Therefore, signorina, please take only the essentials with you and follow me," Matteo finished gently, trying to suppress a smile.  


Hermione looked at her purse with regret and took out the documents from it, handing it to Bruno. Ginny followed her example, and the house-elf, thanking them deeply, disappeared.  


"Well, let's go?" Harry hugged Ginny and started to move after Matteo, who was already a few feet ahead of the guests.  


Hermione and Ron followed in silence, and then Hermione realized that Ron was just as uncomfortable as she was, because the whole atmosphere of this beautiful place seemed to call for love, and there was also a happy couple in love looming ahead. To break the awkward silence, Ron asked:  


"Well, Hermione, do you regret that you finally took a vacation and came here?"  


Hermione sighed with relief: it was good that this awkward moment was over.  


"I don’t know, Ron. We have just arrived, but I really hope that my decision was correct."  


Ron smiled broadly.  


"There she is, the true Hermione Granger: worrying about the correctness of decisions, even when resting at the most luxurious resort in the wizarding world. Have you ever done something completely reckless, Hermione?"  


"I think friendship with you can be considered the most reckless thing in my life," she chuckled, and almost bumped into Ginny, who suddenly stopped.  


They were at the foot of the beautiful staircase. Matteo climbed a few steps and turned:  


"Dear guests, before you step on the threshold of “La Bella Magnolia”, I would like to tell you a few things. So, for starters, you cannot Apparate on the territory of the Magnolia, unless you are a house-elf or a working staff member. Therefore, try to get used to walking for one month. But now the most important information that you should know and remember from the moment of signing the contract. As you probably already know, “La Bella Magnolia” is one of the most mysterious and amazing places in the world. Here patients recover from even the most incurable diseases, the souls of wizards find peace and harmony, problems are surprisingly getting solved, and true desires and dreams come true. Therefore, by signing a contract with us, you are obliged to accept our help, no matter how strange it may seem, and participate in all the events that you will learn about from letters daily. It’s possible that each of you will be required to attend different events separately, depending on the current need of your soul. So there is no turning back. As soon as you see the letter, know that you must unconditionally follow the instructions provided in it. And remember, everything that will happen to you here, even the most improbable and unpredictable, will ultimately have a beneficial effect on your life, even if at first it doesn’t seem so to you.  


Hermione looked at Matteo with great shock. She glanced back and then realized that the others also hadn’t expected it to be so... Serious? Matteo, on the other hand, gazed at their faces with a mysterious smile.  


Hermione was the first to pull herself together.  


"Excuse me, sir, did I understand correctly: are we obliged to do everything that the Magnolia offers us, even if we don't want to?" she asked warily, hoping that her fears wouldn’t be justified.  


"Quite right, signorina," Matteo replied cheerfully, but apparently seeing the horror on Hermione's face as she imagined the most unpleasant things in her life, he added with a wide smile: "Don't worry, bella, we try to make our guests comfortable, so you won't do anything reprehensible, unless you want to."  


The Italian gave her a meaningful look, which made her snort and look away. Here's more nonsense! Hermione was outraged by this turn of events, because she never even got a chance to study the contract properly, which she almost hastily signed, urged by Ginny. Maybe she hadn't let her read it all on purpose, because she was afraid Hermione might change her mind. But Ginny seemed just as puzzled as Hermione right now, frowning slightly as she crossed her arms.  


"But most people don't know what they want," Matteo continued, suddenly becoming thoughtfully serious." And only here they can finally understand themselves and face their true desires. It doesn't always go unnoticed, and it takes a lot of courage. Whether you are ready to change at the behest of the Magnolia – we will find out right now."  


"Don't tell me that we have to meet Boggarts: they have a habit of transforming into creepy spiders," said Ron, shivering. It seems that he didn’t quite understand Matteo's words about the hotel, fate and obligations, but he hoped that they wouldn’t ask too much of him.  


"No, you won't see a Boggart here, unless you brought it with you in one of those lovely purses," Matteo grinned. "All you have to do is just to walk up the stairs. You will experience a little strange sensation, but don’t be afraid: this is a special magic of the Magnolia. It’s absolutely safe and at the same time helps to find out whether you can relax at the resort and withstand everything that it has prepared for you. So follow me and... Buona fortuna! **  


With that, Matteo swiftly turned around and strode up. The friends hesitated for a moment, amazed by what they had just heard. They were so engrossed and excited about their upcoming vacation in such a posh place that they signed papers without even looking, which apparently doomed them to something more than lying down on the beach.

"I had doubts about this from the start," Harry said defensively. "Probably, it wasn’t the best idea to accept the vouchers. I’m sorry."  


"Oh, I don’t know, Harry, if we can ever forgive you for that," Ginny said thoughtfully. "It's so terrible that you gave us the opportunity to stay at the best resort in the wizarding world, which, moreover, promises a lot of adventures and new experiences!"  


Ginny happily threw her arms around Harry's neck.  


"Thanks, sweetie! This is the best gift ever!"  


He hugged her awkwardly, and looked at Ron and Hermione with an uncertain smile.  


"Sorry, I didn't know that everything is on such strange terms here."  


"It's all right Harry!" Ron smiled good-naturedly. "For the sake of such a vacation, it’s not a sin to tolerate the whims of this place. Moreover, it’s our own fault that we didn’t study the contract properly. Right, Hermione?"  


Ron looked at her pointedly, apparently praying that she wouldn’t say anything unnecessary. After all, as soon as she makes it clear with just one word that Harry has dragged them into another awkward story, he will begin to reproach himself. He still couldn’t fully get over the fact that his loved ones were forced to suffer simply from the fact that their friend's name was Harry Potter. Hermione knew that Harry took the death of close friends pretty heavily: Sirius, Fred, Lupin and Tonks, as well as everyone who died in that brutal war. He was sure that it was all his fault, and only Ron, Hermione and Ginny made Harry throw these gloomy thoughts out of his head with incredible efforts. But in fact, Hermione knew that the war had left a huge wound in Harry's heart that would never close completely, even if the pain diminished over time. So maybe this resort can help him?  


She’d like to believe that.  


Hermione took a deep breath and finally said:  


"Thank you Harry. I'm sure this will be our best vacation in a lifetime!"  


She smiled softly at him, although her heart was restless. So far everything seemed too incomprehensible and even unreal.  


"Don't be afraid, it's not scary at all! Just go up the steps!" suddenly they heard a voice, and the friends looked up – Matteo was already at the very top of the stairs.  


"Is anyone here afraid?" Ginny asked in a loud voice. "Well, then I’ll go first, sissies!"  


With these words, she, jumping over several steps on the way, rushed up.  


"No way!" Harry ran after.  


Ron turned to Hermione.  


"Well, let's go?"  


"Sure," Hermione replied, and carefully stepped up the first step. She felt a slight chill, but she didn’t feel any other sensations. Emboldened, Hermione began to confidently ascend the stairs. Her figure was surrounded by a halo of sunlight she rose towards, anticipating that from that moment her fate would change dramatically.  


* * *  


"Now it's your turn, signorina. Please, follow me," Hermione followed Matteo down a cobbled path surrounded by the same abundance of flowers and plants.  
She was impressed by the magnificence of this beautiful place and was now looking forward to seeing her hotel room. Harry, Ginny and Ron were already shown to their rooms: to the pleasant surprise of their friends, the accommodation were seemingly small and neat bungalows, which were located very close to the sea and the main building of the Magnolia. As Matteo explained, all guests live in bungalows, but each one is unique. Hermione was amazed to learn that almost the entire huge palace, which greeted them with its luxury at the very beginning, turned out to be an administrative building, where all kinds of rooms for the entertainment of wizards were located, from the library to a hall with a real Quidditch field inside. In addition, the palace housed rooms for the staff permanently working at the Magnolia, but there were no guest rooms in there.  


Suddenly Matteo stopped and turned to Hermione. "This is your bungalow, signorina," Hermione stepped closer to the Italian and looked to her right. Her bungalow with a small glass staircase leading to it, was on a hill, but generally looked the same as the one’s her friends had. Hermione felt a thrill: she was terribly interested in what was inside. "Your things are already in place. If you need something, just say it out loud – the house-elf you saw upon your arrival at the Magnolia will appear."  
Hermione frowned slightly; she didn't want to exploit the poor elf at all. Matteo noticed her expression and said affirmatively rather than asking:  


"Are you worried about the elves, donna? You have a good heart, but believe me, Bruno will gladly serve you! He likes his job."  


Hermione sighed and shook her head.  


"You don’t understand, signor. House-elves are like people: sometimes they don't know what they want."  


"But this elf – I assure you, signorina, – knows what he wants. He's at “La Bella Magnolia”, and everyone realizes their true desires here," the Italian smiled mysteriously. "And please, call me Matteo."  


Hermione folded her arms across her chest and stared into his face for a while.  


"So you also can call me Hermione," she finally answered with a slight smile, but immediately added: "Tell me, sig... Matteo, what will happen if I refuse to participate in one of your events because I’m, let’s say, feeling unwell?"  


Matteo looked at her intently.

"You will go home immediately, Hermione, and the doors of the Magnolia will be closed for you forever. You see, a very ancient magic is at work here – this place seems to sense you, literally reads your destiny and your true desires. Therefore, if something threatens your life or carries a potential danger, you simply won't receive an invitation letter to any event, and you can do whatever you want. But if the letter did arrive..." Matteo made a significant pause and continued: "Then you must appear in the right place at the right time! Now, with your permission, I'll go to meet the other guests. Have a good rest, bella!" With these words Matteo Apparated.  


Hermione was confused. True desires, letters, events, ancient magic... All this was too much for the first day of stay at the resort, even if it was so picturesque. Hermione decided to think it over later, and now she was climbing the glass sills to her bungalow. Finally, she stopped inches from the door and suddenly realized that she didn't even have a key. Hermione jerked the handle – closed. Then she took out her wand and tried to open the door with the help of spells – to no avail. This circumstance got on her nerves. She was about to go back and look for Matteo, when she suddenly heard a melodious female voice. It felt like an echo and was speaking to her: "Hermione Granger lives here. If you are Hermione Granger, then you must know which dish you loved the most as a child."  


Hermione shuddered and looked around for the source of the sound, but the attempt was in vain. She was discouraged that she knew very little about the Magnolia. None of the books contained anything, but general information about this amazing place. Moreover, she had no idea how to open doors to the hotel rooms. Hermione sighed and answered at random into the void: "I am Hermione Granger, and as a child my favorite dish was an apple pie."  


"The answer is correct. Welcome home, Hermione Granger," the voice answered evenly, and the door opened.  


Hermione stepped inside uncertainly and froze. Her heart was beating fast: she found herself in a small, cozy room with a huge window taking up the entire wall and this, undoubtedly, was the room of her dreams. Made in white with bright accents in the interior of green, yellow and red, it seemed to radiate positive energy. Hermione hastily kicked off her sandals and stepped barefoot on the warm wood of the parquet. She immediately noticed that the bungalow seemed much smaller from the outside than this room: evidently, it was not without the enchantment of increasing the inner space.  


Everything around was flooded with sunlight, thanks to a huge window overlooking a small green garden with flowers and a white wooden gazebo with a tea table in the middle. In the room itself, to the right and left, there were several more doors – apparently, Hermione was in the living room. So where are the other doors leading to? She decided to find out right after she’d be done examining this room. In the center was a cozy white sofa with colorful bright pillows, right in front of it was a fluffy rug that one would want to drown in. On either side of the room were large bookcases, filled with books. Hermione rushed to one of them and enthusiastically began to read the titles of tomes that were already dear to her heart: almost all the books were in her native language, which she was very happy about. More than that, she had intended to read most of them for a long time now!  


But Hermione was most excited about an old white leather-bound book called "The Story of La Bella Magnolia". Hermione hated not to know something, and the Magnolia was still a big mystery to her. So Hermione in awe, took the book from the shelf and plopped down on the soft sofa – she was eager to start reading. It seemed that it wasn't long before there was a knock on the door. Hermione flinched at the unexpected sound and hurried to open it after putting the book aside. Ginny was smiling in the doorway.  


"Hermione, this is amazing," without further ado she flew into the room and froze as if lost in thought. "Wow! Your bungalow is much better than Ron's! It's all too orange."  


"Everyone just got what they wanted," Hermione closed the door behind her friend, who was rather a tornado named Ginny Weasley. "So what is so amazing you wanted to tell me?"  


Ginny, looking around the room with delight, seemed to pull herself up and turned quickly: "Everything, Hermione! Everything here is amazing! It seems that a special magic really does work in this place, turning our life into a fairy tale! In my room with Harry, we have such a bed, like – you won't believe it! Almost the entire bedroom is one large bed! And how convenient it is…"  


"Ginny, stop it, I don’t have to hear another story about your mind-blowing sex with Harry," Hermione hastily stopped her. She was still wildly embarrassed when Ginny talked so frankly to her on intimate topics.  


“As you wish, my dear," Ginny said in a deliberately calm tone flashing her eyes, but immediately exclaimed: "But the sex was amazing!"  


Hermione nudged Ginny lightly with her elbow, making her laugh. No, this girl will never change!  


"Okay, Miss Prude, let's take a look at your shelter! Show me around."  


Ginny looked impatiently at Hermione, which made her slightly hesitant.  


"To be honest, I was so carried away by “The Story of La Bella Magnolia” that I haven't even had a chance to study everything properly," she replied with confusion and seeing Ginny's reaction immediately added: "And don't you look at me like that!"  


"Oh, Merlin, as always, Hermione! Let's fill in your gaps later this afternoon."  


“When’s the lunch time?" Hermione changed the subject with relief, putting the book in place.  


"Right now," Ginny replied calmly.  


Hermione froze for a moment. She didn't even have time to take a shower, to unpack, and there is a lunchtime already?! Hermione remembered very well that when she entered the room, she had three whole hours at her disposal. Has she really spent this much time reading? As if in response to a question, Ginny said:  


"Sometimes I think, Hermione, your life will be over before you can finish reading another “must-read” book."  


"But they all really are a “must-read”! And “The Story of La Bella Magnolia” is even more so," Hermione bristled. "Besides, now I’ve at least started to understand a little about everything that happens here."  


"Well, the fact that our rooms are arranged a la “the Room of Requirement”, I realized without your book," Ginny grinned and immediately added: "Okay, I'll give you fifteen minutes to get ready, meanwhile I'll find our goofs.. I think they said something about the Quidditch field. When you will be ready, just come to the Great Hall - we will wait for you."  


"I won’t be long," promised Hermione, annoyed that on the very first day she showed unpunctuality. Even on vacation, she couldn't afford to fully relax: the habit of being responsible was firmly ingrained in her mind. Ginny nodded and danced out of the bungalow. Hermione sighed: she wished she could be so full of energy and easy-going. As for work, yes, she was ready to jump off the spot at any minute giving herself up to her duties as much as possible. But outside of work, she often had the felling that life was just passing by. Hermione was a crazy workaholic, and it was almost impossible to get her to go out. Ginny probably didn't know how right she was. But worst of all, Hermione knew it too, she just didn't know what to do about it.  


***  


In hastily she put on the first sundress that came to hand, with her hair not dried after a shower, Hermione literally flew into the Great Hall. On her way here, she managed to get lost several times, which made her another fifteen minutes late. And now she was frantically looking around, trying to find familiar faces. Finally, Hermione saw Matteo nearby.  


"Good afternoon, signor! Could you…" she literally flew up to him, but he gestured her with his hand to stop talking.  


"We seem to have agreed, bella, that I will be just Matteo, and you — Hermione. Isn't it so?" he smiled broadly at her.  


Hermione shook her head nervously. "Yes, I'm sorry, I just can’t readjust. I'm looking for my friends, can you tell me where they are?"  


"Of course, follow me," answered Matteo and turning gracefully walked along the hall.  


Hermione followed him and finally looked around the room she was in. Like everything in this resort, the Magnolia’s Great Hall was magnificent. In some ways it resembled the Great Hall of Hogwarts, only it was much larger and brighter. Instead of four long tables, there were hundreds of small ones with fluttered around hotel employees in uniform robes with an embroidered magnolia on the chest. They were all handsome, friendly and polite, and Hermione was absolutely sure that many of them had Veela in their heritage. The tables surrounded a large stage with some magical band currently playing on it– Hermione seemed to have seen its picture in one of Ginny's magazines. Unobtrusive Latin American rhythms spread throughout the hall, and some even danced to the beat of the melody. Hermione was pleased to note that all the wizards who were here looked happy and friendly, although most of them were, by far, one of the richest magicians in the wizarding world.  


To Hermione's pleasant surprise, there wasn't a drop of the outward insolence and arrogance in them, which she was so used to seeing at Hogwarts from the side of Slytherins, who came from rich and noble pure-blood families. Yes, they loved to emphasize the high position of their parents and simply loved to "point out the true place" to people like her. Imagination immediately slipped the image of Draco Malfoy to Hermione – who most of all poisoned her life at Hogwarts. She shuddered: she didn't even want to remember the humiliation she had to experience because of this vile Slytherin boy with his faithful gang. Hermione thanked Merlin for not seeing Malfoy's haughty face in years, and sincerely hoped she would never see him again.  


After the war ended, Hermione and Ginny returned to Hogwarts to finish education and receive their high school diplomas. Too few seventh years decided to follow their example, but to Hermione's amazement, Malfoy also returned to school with Blaise Zabini, although their appearance was like snow in the summer. But, fortunately, they behaved quite well and, moreover, didn't attract much attention, and therefore their presence at Hogwarts went almost unnoticed by Hermione, with the exception of rare skirmishes at recess.  


Hermione forced herself to push the dark memories out of her head and just then saw Ginny waving at her. Hermione waved back and turned to Matteo.  


"Thank you very much for your help," she said sincerely.  


"Prego ***, Hermione," Matteo bowed slightly. Buon appetito ****! And now I'm forced to return to my duties." He turned on his heel and walked away. Hermione smiled after him, and then hurriedly walked towards her friends. They sat near a large window at a twisted white table with a vase of fragrant fresh magnolias on it, a bottle of fine white wine, and four filled glasses.  


“Finally! It already seemed like you wouldn't come," Ron muttered displeasedly, following Matteo with his eyes. "Now it’s clear what took up so much of your time, or rather, who."  


"Oh shut up, Ronald," Ginny rolled her eyes. "We barely arrived, and you're already jealous of her over every pillar!"  


"It's none of your business what I do and don’t do," Ron snapped back, blushing slightly.  


“Stop it, you two!" Hermione said sternly, sitting down at their table, but then added more gently: "And forgive me for being late – I got completely lost in time."  


"It's okay Hermione, we just got here ourselves not long ago," Harry smiled at her, leaning relaxed against the back of his chair. "There's an amazing Quidditch court on the fifth floor here! Ron and I decided to try it out a bit."  


"Yes, and that “a little” dragged on for a good two hours," Ginny stated. "Anyway, it doesn't matter! I say we have a drink to the first day of the most amazing and mind blowing vacation in your entire life!" With that she raised her glass, and the others readily followed her example. Normally, Hermione didn't drink alcohol, but on rare occasions she could afford a glass of good wine. This was one of those occasions. "And thank you Harry for giving us this great opportunity!" Ginny added solemnly.  


"Here’s to you!" Friends cheered and took a sip.  


"Mmm, amazing!" stated Ron. "Hopefully we'll be served wine for lunch every day."  


"Italians traditionally drink wine with meals," said Hermione. "And “La Bella Magnolia” was founded by Italians. We are located somewhere close to Italy, so most of the traditions that are observed here are inherent in Italian people."  


"These Italians aren't half bad," Ron said relaxed after draining his glass to the bottom. "With rare exceptions, of course."  


Hermione exchanged glances with Ginny and decided not to argue again. Ron still treated her like his girlfriend, despite the fact that they hadn't been a couple for six months now. But this didn't stop him from being jealous of her as if they were still together.  


At this moment, somewhere very close, a clear female voice with a slight Italian accent suddenly exclaimed: "Oh Merlin, Ginny, Ginny Weasley, is that you?"  


Hermione turned and saw a beautiful black-haired witch staring at Ginny in delightful surprise. Ginny had a similar reaction.  


"Yes, but... Holy Merlin, El, is that really you?!" Ginny even got up from her chair in shock.  


"Damn it," Ron muttered, trying to cover his face with his hand, but it was pointless. The brunette, whose name was apparently El, looked at him and was even more delighted: "Ginny, Ronnie is here too!"  


At her words, Ron blushed to the tips of his ears and said with a slight indignation: "I'm glad to see you too, Elisa."  


At that moment, Ginny threw her arms around girls neck. "Incredible, El! Merlin, it's so great to see you again!" She exclaimed happily, squeezing Elisa in her arms. "How many years has it been! I thought something has happened to you!"  


"A lot has happened, Ginny," El said sadly, gently pushing her aside, but as if she had driven away her gloomy thoughts, she instantly cheered up. "It's incomprehensible, we are meeting for the second time at the resort! Perhaps it’s written!"  


"Yeah, the first time we’ve met is impossible to forget," Ron smiled grimly, and Hermione suddenly remembered Ginny's story that while on vacation in Egypt, they met a real tomboy who lived with her father in a villa not far from their own small cabin. Elisa was Ginny's age and spoke excellent English, although she herself had lived in Italy since birth. Her father had some common affairs with Charlie, so children got to spend a lot of time together. Ginny was laughing about how El loved to make fun of Ron along with Fred and George. They were fascinated with her activeness and liveliness, and therefore the twins often asked her to help them with their next prank. And El always agreed, because she easily managed to lead Ron a pretty dance, especially at the beginning of the vacation, when he even seemed to have a little crush on her. As for Ginny, she and El were inseparable. They had similar personalities, and they understood each other perfectly. Their only difference was that they came from families of different social classes, but according to Ginny, it was barely noticeable in their communication.  


"Elisa, let me introduce you to my fiancé, Harry Potter, and our adorable friend Hermione Granger," Ginny said with some officialdom.  


"Nice to meet you," Harry held out his hand a little discouraged.  


"Me too, Mr. Potter," El shook his hand enthusiastically, glancing briefly at the famous scar. Apparently, she had heard a lot about the great Harry Potter, but the fact that he is Ginny's fiancé came as a surprise to her. Hermione was the next one to extend her hand.  


"Very pleased."  


"Me too, Hermione, me too!" El exclaimed hotly and shook her hand. Hermione involuntarily admired Elisa's beauty: the beautiful contrast of black, short, but thick hair, styled in a neat hairstyle, with pale, as if glowing skin, clearly distinguished her from the crowd. She had neat, characteristic Italian features: high cheekbones, sensual lips, a thin nose with a slight hump, and expressive eyes. And, of course, she was taller and more graceful than Hermione: Elisa's thinness was even a little unhealthy, but certainly suited her well. You could distinct her noble origin just by looking at her. Every movement, every gesture was so naturally soft and aristocratic that there was no doubt that she was born into a renowned pure-blood family.  


"Accio chair!" Ginny said, pointing her wand at an unoccupied table. "Please, El!"  


"Thank you," she smiled and sat down on the very edge. "Actually, I'm waiting for someone, so I'm with you just for a little while."  


"I wonder who are you waiting for?" Ginny asked with a cunning eye, conjuring another glass and pouring wine into it.  


"Well, if you're interested... It’s my beloved one," Elisa smiled broadly. "I can't wait to introduce you to him! Although, you probably know him – he also studied at Hogwarts."  


"Really? What's his name?" Ginny asked with a slight frown as she put the bottle back.  


But suddenly Elisa beamed and energetically waved her hand, looking somewhere over Hermione's head. "And there he is!" she exclaimed happily.  


Hermione watched as if in slow motion, as smiles slowly left the joyful faces of her friends. Ron's mouth twisted in displeasure, Harry bowed his head slightly and frowned, and Ginny just stared in amazement in the same direction as Elisa. She was the first to react by whispering: "Damn it."  


"You better not turn around, Hermione," Ron warned her grimly, but she, trying not to believe in her worst fears, slowly turned and froze.  


Draco Malfoy was literally three feet away from her.  


* Benvenuti ne "La bella magnolia" (it.) – Welcome to “The Beautiful Magnolia!  


** Buona fortuna (it.) – Good luck  


*** Prego (it.) — You’re welcome  


**** Buon appetito (it.) – Bon appetit


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**  


_Soundtrack – Klaus Hallen «Cuando Volveras»_

He couldn't believe his eyes. Potter, Granger, and Weasley with his sister were sitting at a table in the most luxurious hall and drinking exquisite wine in the most expensive resort in the wizarding world. And among them – El, delighted and contented, happily waving her hand and invites him to join them. No, Draco must have gone nuts. He must have gotten a heatstroke while he and El were walking around the Magnolia, and considering that he had just had a glass of strong wine, it was no surprise that he was imagining all sorts of nonsense.  


Draco almost laughed: the Golden Trio and El, together, here in the Magnolia, truly absurd.  


The thought of this somehow calmed him down, and he closed his eyes so that the delusion would pass as soon as possible. Elisa was right – she should have conjured some kind of hat for him to hide from direct sunlight. Damn it.  


Draco finally slowly opened his eyes and was going to tell El about the delusional mirage, as a cruel understanding of the reality of what was happening had hit him: right in front of him was the Golden Trio with the youngest Weasley, and next to them was Elisa, who had already begun to frown slightly because he, like an absolute fool, stupidly stood still, unable to utter a word.  


"Draco, caro mio, why are you standing there? Come closer," Elisa finally said with a slight bewilderment in her voice.  


She didn't seem to have expected such a strange reaction from everyone present. Draco didn’t tell her much about his past at Hogwarts, because it was inextricably linked to the darkest period of his life, which he preferred not to remember. And Elisa, on her part, never asked him if he knew the Weasley family, as if she was afraid to remind him of those years once again.  


"Holy Merlin," Granger breathed out, and Draco immediately gave her a mocking look.  


"Thanks, Granger, just call me Draco," he quipped, raising an eyebrow.  


Here it is – a typical manner of their communication, and she had already managed to wean from it.  


"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy," Granger snapped back, and with a shake of her head, she quickly turned away.  


"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ron Weasley muttered through clenched teeth, glaring at Draco from under his brows.  


Malfoy grinned and casually strolled up to the table.  


"Nice to see you too, Weasley, but that’s the question I have to ask you. Did you sell all your, uh, possessions to buy a voucher?" Draco's lips curled in disdain. "I don’t think so, though. If that was the case, you would only have enough money for a couple of days in the suburbs of London."  


"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter said grimly. "Sorry you didn't have enough money to get your daddy out of Azkaban."  


Draco's eyes narrowed in disdain and he slowly turned his gaze to him.  


"Oh, Potter, haven't seen each other for a long time, have we?" Draco began deliberately casually. "How are you? Still feeding your faithful dog Weasley with handouts from the Ministry? And how could I not have guessed at once!"  


Potter managed to restrain Weasel in time, before he made a pathetic attempt to explain Malfoy what was happening, without the help of words.  


"Draco, stop it!" El shouted at him, dumbfounded, and looked around indignantly. "What's going on here?"  


There was a silent pause at the table, except for Ronald's obscene wailing, still struggling to get out of Potter's grip, and the typical din of the restaurant.  


Granger stealthily shifted her gaze from one face to another. It was quite clear that none of her friends knew how to explain better the whole thing to El. And 

Draco was expectantly silent, confident that Granger would decide to "save" the situation anyway...  


"Let me explain," Hermione started carefully, clearing her throat. It was quite obvious that she often pulled her moron "friends" out of awkward situations like this, preferring to take responsibility, even though she often suffered the most because of it.  


Even now, it was clear that she felt uncomfortable under his and El's piercing gazes, while Potter and the Weasleys waited tensely for her to say something.  


There was nowhere to retreat, so Granger took a deep breath and bravely began:  


"You see, Elisa, so it happened that in school the four of us and Mal...Draco were in different houses..."  


"Good start, Granger," Malfoy said mockingly behind Hermione.  


"…And we were at completely different social circles," she continued, ignoring his remark. "That is, we have always adhered to radically opposite views on life and..."  


“Even better," Draco snorted.  


"… And because of this we didn't communicate with each other," Hermione began to boil slightly raising her voice. "And, as you may have guessed, we’ve always been not on the best terms. Slytherin and Gryffindor disliked each other for centuries."  


"Disliked? Granger! I'm going to cry now!" Malfoy rolled his eyes theatrically as he watched Weasley’s face grow redder with anger, and Potter had already clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles turned white. Draco had forgotten what a pleasant feeling it was to have Potty and Weasel on edge.  


Finally, Granger's composure came to an end. She turned sharply, got up from her chair and found herself directly in the front of Draco.  


"You are a twitchy little ferret! If you’re so smart, then go ahead and explain to her why you’ve been hating me, Harry and Ron your entire life, and acting like a narcissistic bastard, insulting everyone around for no reason and trying to assert yourself at the expense of humiliating others!"  


Draco looked down at the angry Granger, who, having blurted out everything in one breath, now stared at him, panting. Surely, from the outside, she looked like an angry cat trying to confront a ruthless tiger: bravely, but useless. Draco was at least eight inches taller than her, and much stronger.  


"Bravo, Granger, how much expression!" Malfoy waved his hand dramatically. "Just do me a favor, get away from me: such an intimate... hmm... proximity, to put it mildly, disturbs me."  


Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Weasley jump up from his seat, trying to move towards him, but his sister, this red-haired girlfriend of Potter, grabbed him so that Weasel only tried to brush her off unsuccessfully.  


"You’re so..." Hermione took an involuntary step back, blushing and shaking her head.  


"Incredibly charming? Thanks, I know Granger." Draco grinned at her. Only this smile was unkind, his eyes remained contemptuously cold as before.  


"Shut your mouth, you bastard!" Harry snapped, glaring at him with hatred. "I don’t know, how you can date him, Elisa, he’s a monster!"  


"Fucking Death Eater!" Weasel spat out.  


El's gaze flashed, and she was about to answer, when she was suddenly interrupted by Ronald's furious sister, Ginny Weasley:  


"You both shut up! Look at you, you’re no better than Malfoy! Like we’re back at school, for crying out loud! Isn't it time to learn how to behave like adults?!"  


Potter and Weasel had gone quiet and now looked ashamed.  


Draco admired how skillfully the Chosen One's little girlfriend managed to rein them in even without magic.  


"Forgive us, El, for this scene. I'm deeply sorry this happened," Ginny looked at Elisa with remorse.  


It was obvious that she was wondering how a girl as beautiful as El could call "beloved" such an "arse" like Draco.  


Well, he deserved it.  


"It's alright, Ginny, it’s all Draco’s fault," Elisa said through clenched teeth and squinted at him.  


Malfoy knew that look, it didn’t bode well. It meant that he’ll face a stormy debriefing with all the typical Italian expressions. Sweet El. She still thinks that this will help him "change."  


"Honey, I was just greeting my old pals in their own manner," Malfoy smiled coldly at her. "And now, I think, it’s better for us to leave. Or I'm afraid the bonds of friendship will grow stronger."  


With these words, he offered Elisa his hand. An oppressive atmosphere reigned at the table. El sat motionless for a while, glaring at Draco, but eventually she nervously took his hand and got up from the chair.  


"I beg your pardon for Draco and me for the inconvenience," Elisa said, throwing a warning glance at Malfoy, and immediately tried to look friendly, trying to cope with her emotions. "Hermione, Harry, it was a pleasure. Ginny, Ron – I'm incredibly happy you’re both here! I hope to see you again soon."  


As she said that Elisa quickly turned around and hurried away. Draco rolled his eyes defiantly, but said nothing. He already had a serious showdown with El to come, and it wasn’t in his interests to make things worse. The only thing he wanted now was to get away from Dumbledore's fucking golden kids and have a glass of cold Firewhiskey. No, better two.  


* * *  


"What do you mean “He can’t see you”?! I'm his niece, for Merlin’s sake! And he's expecting me!" El gasped with indignation. She had already been trying for quite some time to convince a cute blonde with an angelic appearance, but a damn stubborn temper to let her into Lorenzo's office. However, all attempts were unsuccessful.  


"Signorina, even if you were his daughter, I wouldn’t dare to let you in," the girl repeated persistently, already starting to get a little irritated.  


"I have an official invitation," Elisa persistently thrust a letter with the symbols of "Magnolia" under the blonde's nose. "Is that enough for you to let us see Lorenzo, signora?"  


El had purposely emphasized the last word, and now she was looking at the blonde with angry triumph, enjoying her reaction. Draco felt a little sorry for this pretty witch. The poor thing turned purple with anger and seemed ready to tear El to pieces. Obviously, she tried her best to hide her long-past-girlish age with the help of anti-aging charms and sincerely hoped that no one would notice.  


“Signora”, what a faux pas!" finally the girl exhaled indignantly and involuntarily touched her face with well-groomed fingers. "I'm too young to be treated like that."  


"Oh, sorry, I just thought that you were married," El grinned, watching the elongated face of the blonde, and after that she added meaningfully: "But now since you mentioned age…"  


Draco hurriedly pushed off the wall he had been standing by all this time and walked over to the table, gently pushing Elisa aside. The blonde was already ready to grab onto Elisa’s hair, but, apparently, due to her official duties, she used her last strength to restrain her emotions, filling with outrage more and more with each breath.  


Draco often came to Elisa's aid at such moments. Sometimes even El said that she would have been killed with some Unforgivable Curses long ago without him. Draco was genuinely surprised how she had survived and unharmed at all with such a cocky and scandalous character, which she showed to the fullest if something didn’t go as planned. And then, at the right moment, he, Draco Malfoy, would step in with his reserved and thoughtful play on other people's emotions and weaknesses.  


He smiled sadly at his thoughts, realizing that he once more had to do it. Yes, El would probably throw a tantrum, but there was no other way.  


Draco put his hands on the table on each side of the receptionist and tilted his head to gaze intently into her eyes. He knew she was probably feeling awkward and uncomfortable because he had violated her personal space, and now he was watching her reaction. The girl froze in bewilderment and, with a sigh, held her breath. She looked at Draco with eyes widening in surprise and was absolutely unsure what to expect from him next. Her anger seemed to have disappeared, as Draco's behavior had clearly disarmed her. Nevertheless, she didn’t move away, but on the contrary, as if under hypnosis, even leaned forward a little. It was a good sign, and Malfoy leaned even closer to her, breathing hot over the girl's cheek. The blonde didn’t dare to move, as if she had fallen into some kind of trance. Draco barely brushed his lips over her cheek and stopped at her ear.  


"Excuse me, signorina, but we really do need to get to Signor Lorenzo," Draco purred in a hushed, velvet voice, lightly touching her skin with his lips.  


"Could you take a look at the letter to be sure, bella?"  


Malfoy pulled back and looked the blonde straight in her eyes with a slight half-smile. She opened her mouth a little and stared at Draco in a way that if it could undressed him, he would have been naked by now.  


Draco had often seen this expression on girls' faces. He knew how to play on their feelings and desires, and they all fell for his tricks almost every time.  


It seems that some of the thoughts were reflected on his face, because the blonde, embarrassed, pulled away from him and hastily turned her gaze to the letter.  


"Yeah – of course, signor, I'll take a look," she said, clearing her throat, and gave Draco a shy smile. Malfoy nodded contentedly and shot a quick glance at El. She stood with her arms folded across her chest and shook her head reproachfully.  


She was well aware that Draco had two undeniable advantages over others that were immediately evident: wealth and beauty. Yes, Draco was fabulously rich, his family owned a fortune that had been raised over the centuries. The Malfoys knew how to handle money. From time immemorial, they sometimes loved it even more than their children, because money gave power, and power allowed them to feel superiority over other wizards for centuries, and get a lot without much difficulty. Well, the vaunted purity of blood and even more so made the Malfoy family almost demigods in the eyes of most magicians, and even those who sincerely hated this family.  


Draco had rethought a lot since the end of the war, and, in fact, almost all of his ideas about life had burst like a big soap bubble, but others hadn’t. Others still put money at the forefront, and Draco often used it with quiet disgusting sadness. It was impossible to do otherwise, he had buried the hope of living differently long ago.  


Surprisingly, people were willing to sell their souls to the devil for money, and even more so to fulfill the urgent request of "Mr. Malfoy".  


Back when he had wandered around the world, hoping to escape the horror of his usual life, Draco had learned that people were the same everywhere. At first he was even annoyed, but soon he just stopped caring. The world will never change. And what difference does it really make what the means are, if they justify the ends?  


And as for beauty, Draco's was special one. He certainly wasn't the cute, sweet, handsome guy that crowds of girls admired. His beauty wasn’t noble, as in the paintings of great artists depicting good knights, and he himself never claimed to be a handsome prince. But he knew that his hard lips, pointed chin, well-defined cheekbones, chiseled aristocratic nose and gray, slightly narrowed eyes with a haze carried such a clear energy of danger and something forbidden that some people were feeling chills and were ready to rush away from him, while others, on the contrary, felt drawn to him, succumbing to a strange magnetic impulse.  


It was all about Draco's unusual talent that he skillfully used for his own, usually self-serving purposes. He discovered this in his fifth year as an understanding of his skill to magically guess the weaknesses and desires of girls came to him. Draco knew what to do to drive them mad and make them want him. He could make a woman believe that she is the one and only, give her pleasure and just as easily take it away, humiliating and killing all pride and dignity. The girls felt it, and it terrified them, they wanted to run away from Draco, and on the other hand, towards him, waiting for at least short-term happiness and sensual pleasure. That's when 

Malfoy could do whatever he wanted – achieve any goals, taking advantage of the weakness of his victims.  


He was a flame devouring anyone who got too close, and those women who were captured by his magnetism walked towards this fire, hurrying to their little death, like moths chained by their desire to possess beauty.  


That’s what was so disarming, made the mind shout "Save yourself!", and pushed body towards danger.  


At the same time, oddly enough, Draco very rarely used this skill to drag a woman into bed, but almost always to achieve something on a simple level of life. He just loved strong and independent women, and he didn’t want to bother for those who just became a semblance of a floor rag, succumbing to his charms, even for the sake of bed pleasures.  


That is why, thanks to these talents of his, Draco Malfoy always achieved everything he wanted, either with the help of money and power that worked flawlessly on men, or with the help of attractive beauty and magnetism, in case he had to deal with women.  


Elisa was annoyed by this state of affairs, but she had to get used to the idea that there was no way to change this trait in Draco. He was used to using his father's favorite methods over the years, almost always. Playing by the established rules wasn’t for him, he preferred to set them himself, spitting on honor and morality.  


And now, this stupid receptionist – and how could Lorenzo even hire her? – periodically threw ambiguous glances at Draco, obviously hoping for the continuation of the "conversation". Stupid girl, just another trophy in Draco's gallery of particularly easy victories. He could even swear that any moment now she’d start unbuttoning her white blouse.  


Not wanting to look at this performance anymore, Elisa asked impatiently: "Can we get through now?"  


The blonde shuddered at the demanding voice of the Italian woman and looked at her with displeasure.  


"Excuse me, but I need to check this information with the Signor," the girl answered dryly and, straightening her skirt, swayed her hips in the direction of the office, previously having thrown another inviting glance at Draco. Malfoy grinned and winked at Elisa, who was staring after her with distaste.  


"Stupida gallina!* In less than two minutes, she’s ready to pull off her blouse!" El hissed as the girl muttered the password and disappeared behind the door.  


"No wonder," Draco snorted and added in a bored tone, "Most women are all the same. The same reaction from time to time – it’s getting boring."  
He wished he hadn't said that. Elisa stared at him, trying to incinerate him with her gaze.  


"What do you think my reaction should be when you behave like this again in front of my eyes?!"  


Draco exhaled loudly. He didn’t even hope to avoid a natural scandal, but this time the consequences seem to be much worse. But El should thank him for persuading such an uncooperative person.  


"El, please don't start..."  


"No, Draco, I'll start!" the Italian interrupted him angrily. "Tell me, why do I have to endure this performance every time?! Do you think it gives me a pleasure to watch you try to get into another dumb girl’s panties in the name of achieving your fucking goal?!"  


Draco laughed. Elisa liked to exaggerate unnecessarily the importance of the events taking place, and it seemed to him quite amusing.  


"Don't talk nonsense! I just asked her to look at the letter, moreover, to achieve your goal. And thanks to this, you will soon meet your dearest uncle Lorenzo! It's not news to you, El, that I know how to communicate with people and I use it often, so stop this hysteria!"  


Something changed in Elisa's face, and Draco didn't like it.  


"Really? You know how to communicate with people, Draco, don’t you?" El's eyes flashed evilly. "What about your warm, um, communication with the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione?"  


There was nothing to say to that. Bravo, El, you're right again. Now it became clear why she started up now more than usual. They didn't have time to discuss what had happened in the hall, as El in sullen silence immediately went in search of Lorenzo, and Draco could hardly keep up with her.  


"El, my relationship with Potter, Weasley and Granger is beyond your grasp, believe me. It's too hard to explain," Draco said with grim harshness. "And we'll never be good friends who wishes each other a “good day” upon meeting."  


There was a tense silence for a while, and then the voice of the Italian cut through tight silence.  


"Why do you hate them so much, Draco?" El said quietly with incomprehension peering into Malfoy's face as if she hoped to find the answer to her question.  


"I don't hate them, El," Draco said wearily. "It's just... That’s the way things are."  


And it was true. If before he felt an all-consuming hatred for the Golden Trio with every cell of his being, dreamed of turning their lives into hell, and used every opportunity to bring Potter to white heat, now everything was completely different from just five years ago. He didn’t know what contributed to this: maybe the fact that this very Potter saved his life, knowing full well that Draco would hardly have done the same, or maybe it was the horror that the Dark Lord was doing on his estate that made Malfoy look at life in a completely different way. Hundreds of Muggles and wizards were killed in front of his eyes, and with every death scream of the victim, with every convulsive pain on the helpless faces of mostly innocent people, Draco began to hate Voldemort more and more. And against the background of this black, searing icy hatred for the most terrible creature in the world, who his father worshiped so much, that school hostility towards the Golden Trio, and towards Gryffindor in general, seemed just harmless childish stupidity and a manifestation of youthful maximalism.  


So no, he didn't hate Potter, Weasleys and Granger, damn them. They just annoyed him. And if there was a choice to be with them in the same room or not, he would prefer not to see these heroic faces for the rest of his life. Draco's thoughts were interrupted with the sound of an opened door nearby and the chiseled figure of a blonde came into view.  


"Forgive me, signor, but Mr. Lorenzo is not there now," she stated in frustration, guiltily looking Draco in the eyes. She didn't want to disappoint him.  


"Where is he?" El asked sharply, not doubting the veracity of the receptionist's words. The girl shuddered and turned her gaze in displeasure at Elisa, curling her lips.  


"I don’t know, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have told you," she said coldly.  


"Signorina, bella, do you know when he will be back?" Draco said hastily cutting off El's attempt to tell her a couple of gentle ones.  


"Unfortunately, I don't have such information, signor, but I can tell you that Mr. Lorenzo will be present at the evening show."  


Draco raised an eyebrow in confusion.  


"At the evening show?.."  


"Yes, sir. Mr. Lorenzo, as a rule, personally present at this event, and you’ll be able to talk to him this evening," the blonde gave Draco a charming smile. It was noticeable that she had some time to preen herself while she was in Lorenzo's office.  


Yes, Draco may have overdone his efforts a bit to help El, but it wasn't his fault that sometimes women are too impressionable.  


"Okay, thanks for the information, but it's time for us to go, right, Draco, caro mio?" El demonstratively pressed herself against Malfoy glancing at the blonde unkindly. She was unhappy with what she saw, and proudly raised her nose, as she venomously threw in El's face:  


"That's fine! Good luck!"  


"And you, signora!"  


El said goodbye and pulled Draco's arm away. He hurried after her after winking at the angry receptionist. He really hoped that they would have time to leave before she rushed after them with her fists.  


The blonde seemed to be saying something about the evening show? Probably, she was wrong with the time, because for Draco the show had already begun, and there were much more characters in it than he had expected.  


* * *  


Hermione walked the familiar path to her bungalow and continued down the sunlit alley. She breathed in with pleasure the concentrated aroma of flowers, sea air, and subtle notes of exquisite wine. Malfoy spoiled her mood and appetite badly with his unexpected appearance, but she decided not to let emotions take control over her, and therefore, without waiting for friends, went for a walk in the beautiful surroundings of the magnificent Magnolia as a little distraction.  
She loved to walk alone. This allowed her to concentrate, reflect calmly on various matters, and just daydream a little. For Hermione, the walk was a kind of relaxation. That is why whenever she quarreled with Ron, was very tired, or simply was in a bad mood, the first thing she did was going for a walk to get some fresh air and to enjoy the pristine beauty of nature. And now with every step she took, she felt better and better, and there was practically no unpleasant residue left in her soul by the quarrel with Malfoy.  


After he and Elisa disappeared from her sight, a depressing atmosphere reigned at the table, and there was no trace of that joyful anticipation they’d had. And how can anyone be happy about something when this ferret walks somewhere nearby, desecrating a wonderful place with his presence? However, he isn't alone here, and therefore there is a possibility that at least with his girlfriend he won't behave like the biggest jerk on Earth. The thought was very calming. After all, Ron started today's squabble, and it remains unknown whether Malfoy would have behaved this way or not. Hermione mentioned this at the table when she and Ginny begged Ron and Harry next time not to provoke a conflict and not to take Draco's bait. It's funny, but Hermione realized that she has yet to learn not to do so herself: today Malfoy managed to piss her off, which even during school years happened extremely rarely. Usually, Hermione tried not to pay attention to his tricks and simply ignored his attacks in her direction, while trying to reason with Harry and Ron, but after so many years of no squabbling, her iron equanimity cracked.  


Also, she didn't notice how much her job at the Ministry had shaken her nerves. She worked too much for wear and tear, loaded herself with responsibilities to the point of failure, came to the Ministry before everyone else, and left later than everyone else did. She didn’t confess to anyone, but deep down she wanted to become "The Best Employee of the Year", to win the in-ministerial competition established as a way of rewarding employees for their special contribution to the work of the Ministry of Magic with an inevitable promotion and salary, of course. In her department, Hermione, as a newcomer, wasn't taken seriously, due to belief that such a young witch couldn't be better than those who have worked in this place for years or even decades. Many perceived her as "Harry Potter's friend", thought that without him she was a very mediocre witch. But they underestimated Hermione: the nominations committee simply turned a blind eye to the fact that her productivity rate and total tasks completed in a year was much higher than the result of a simple employee. It was maddening, but Hermione was used to fighting against all odds, gritting her teeth in indignation and continuing to move on. Back in school, she realized that people don't like those who stand out from the crowd. And she stood out with her sharp mind and frenzied performance which was pretty annoying for many. And because for that year, Hermione fought with herself and gave more and more weighty results, swallowing offense and continuing to work for three. Most recently, her department submitted a list of new nominees for "the Best Employee of the Year" award, and Hermione's name wasn't on it again. And if it weren't for Harry with his unexpected gift in the form of a ticket, then Hermione would surely have had a nervous breakdown, because her emotional state in recent months couldn't be called good anyway, and after such a tension reached a critical point. Now she fully realized this and promised herself not to work so much in the future, even for the sake of the most worthy of the awards.  


Hermione didn't notice how the alley ended, and she stepped onto a cobbled square covered with white sand, surrounded by giant palm trees. Her eyes instantly dazzled. It looked like she was at a magical fair, woven of hundreds of multi-colored tents, benches, and all kinds of attractions. Cheerful exclamations of wizards were heard everywhere, children laughed loudly, and the professionally delivered voices of merchants rolled around the square. Everybody was there! Smart witches, sparkling with bright ringing bracelets and offering to buy exotic dishes, and tanned elderly Italians, inviting for a "luccicante e memorabile"** show for a purely symbolic (as it seemed to them) payment, and crowds of wizards looking around in ecstatic amazement... Hermione's eyes were dazzled by such a variety, and she couldn't determine exactly what to look closer at first, so she decided to look into the nearest store. It turned out to be a small shop with beautiful decorations made of natural flowers. Hermione thought that Ginny would be happy to be here – she was very fond of such things.  


Behind the counter was a frail young Italian, watching Hermione vividly.  


"Welcome, bella! Don’t hesitate, choose the most beautiful piece of jewelry for yourself in the best “Beautiful Magnolia” store! How about this lovely necklace, signorina?"  


The boy didn't waste time and airlifted up an ornament of small neat flowers that change color in a businesslike manner. Hermione smiled: something like this had once been given to her. But Hermione herself wasn't very fond of jewelry, and this necklace was also too extravagant for her.  


The Italian realized that the jewelry wasn't her type, quickly returned the necklace back to its place and lifted a bracelet.  


"Then maybe this, bella? Handwork! Father cut flowers from our flower bed with his hand and weaved them into magic threads."  


The bracelet was very cute, and Hermione involuntarily wanted to touch these delicate, light pink petals of flowers she had never seen before. When she touched them, she immediately jerked her fingers away, frightened, because the flowers snapped shut at once, and small tight buds formed in their place. The Italian hastily put the bracelet under the counter, making excuses:  


"Oh, excuse me, bella, this variety of flowers was bred recently, so we haven't yet fully studied its habits."  


"It's okay, everything’s all right!" the frightened Hermione assured the upset young man. "If it’s possible, can I just have a look around now?"  


"Of course, signorina! You can come get me any time!" the boy answered with slight disappointment and sat down on a chair leaning on his knee.  


Hermione walked along the counter, strewn with all kinds of earrings, bracelets, and necklaces, and stopped in front of a section with hairpins. A small white magnolia flower with a scarlet core caught her eye. It barely shone with magical light and was charmingly beautiful. Hermione carefully took it in her hands and examined it from different angles. The hairpins were nowhere to be found.  


"Excuse me, sir, but how do you put this flower on?" Hermione turned to the Italian. He, as if on command, jumped up to her, grabbing a mirror with him.  


"Oh bella, you have good taste!" He smiled broadly at her.  


"Thanks, but still, could you explain, please?" Hermione was still twirling the flower in her hands. She knew a lot about flowers, including magnolias, but this one was completely different. The boy quickly snatched the flower from her hands and, placing the mirror directly in front of her face, said:  


"Just watch."  


He blew lightly on the back of the flower, which made it sparkle even more and then gently put it to Hermione's temple. The flower immediately began to slowly move towards the crown, beautifully picking up the hair behind it. Hermione raised her hand in surprise, and the flower stood motionless.  


"This variety is called Lunar magnolia," the Italian began seriously. "The flower is very rare and mostly hides underground. It rises to the surface only at the full moon, absorbing the moonlight and the energy necessary for its existence. It can be worn as you like, because it keeps itself, just blow on it a little and bring it where you want to put it on. It can be a bracelet, a brooch, and, for example, as now, a hairpin for your beautiful hair, bella!"  


Hermione stared into the mirror fascinated. She loved this magnolia, and it matched her long hair so well that for the first time in a long time, she felt really beautiful. The delicate light of the flower perfectly set off her slightly tanned skin, and this hairstyle made her face softer and suited her. Hermione sighed and pulled the magnolia out of her hair with a slight tug. She easily succumbed and instantly faded, being in her hands. No, after all, such things aren't for her. Hermione was too accustomed to her inevitably tied up hair and the discreet style of dress that was welcomed in the Ministry of Magic.  


"Well, does bella want to buy this wonderful magnolia?!" The boy asked triumphantly as if he had no doubts in a positive answer, but Hermione had to disappoint him.  


"I can’t buy it now, signor," she said with a sad smile. "I left my money in the bungalow, and besides, I rarely wear jewelry. But still, thank you for your attention, it was a pleasure to talk to you! And I'm sorry I just wasted your time. See you!" Hermione had already turned to leave when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She turned around and saw a puny Italian handing her a magnolia:  


"Take it, bella. I give it to you for free!" Hermione opened her mouth in surprise and immediately raised her hands in protest.  


"Oh no, signor, you shouldn't! I'd rather buy it next time!"  


"No, signorina, you don't understand. The flower has chosen you! The Lunar magnolia is like a magic wand: if a person suits it, the flower feels it and begins to sparkle. I've never seen the magnolia shine so brightly and looked so perfect on somebody before," the Italian assured Hermione profoundly. "Believe me, if the Lunar magnolia chose you, then it’ll no longer be able to belong to anyone, and I won't be able to sell it."  


Hermione looked uncertainly at the guy's face and back at the magnolia, once again admiring its beauty.  


"I can't just accept it, sir! Are you sure?" She asked doubtfully. The guy came closer to her and put the flower in her hand.  


"Yes, bella, believe me. It's yours now. It will bring you a lot of luck."  


It dawned on Hermione. Luck. And how could she forget it?  


"The crushed Lunar magnolia petals are parts of Felix Felicis, the good luck potion," she murmured thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes slightly.  


The Italian laughed contentedly: "That's right, signorina! You seem to be pretty good at Herbology!"  


"Oh, just a little bit," Hermione hastily waved away. It will be terrible if she becomes a know-it-all person at the resort.  


Hermione stroked the delicate petals of the magnolia and only now fully realized that the flower really belongs to her now. She didn’t know how to thank this generous Italian and chirped in delight: "Grazie mille ***, sir! Forgive me for not immediately thanking you, I’m so absent-minded lately! I'm feeling uncomfortable, but tell me, do I owe you anything?"  


The guy smiled and waved his hand. "It's nothing, signorina. I give gifts free of charge. You could, of course, bring here an equally charming lady who loves flowers and jewelry."  


The Italian winked at her and Hermione laughed.  


"Yes, I have one in mind. Next time I will certainly bring her! Thank you so much again! Grazie mille, signor!"  


"Prego, bella! **** Enjoy your Magnolia!"  


Hermione happily fluttered out of the tent. She couldn’t wait to tell Ginny about what just happened, but she decided to save the story for the evening – she asked Hermione not to bother them with Harry until dinner. And then Hermione, having decided to wander around the fair another time, intuitively moved to the left past the bright and elegant rows in search of the beach. Now and then she glanced at the magnolia, and it happily sparkled with a ghostly light, as if reflecting the mood of the owner. What a good-natured people these Italians are! It was hard to imagine that in England someone would give away such a beautiful and rare thing to a stranger. Or maybe it's the resort? Matteo said today that many pleasant events will happen here, which will lead to the best. It seems that the promised magic of the Beautiful Magnolia has made an appearance.  


Hermione was so carried away thinking about the amazing place where she was, that she didn't notice that she had reached a huge beach surrounded by palm trees. She stopped in shock.  


There were hundreds of wizards enjoying the sun, lying on the white sand. Some hovered in the air on magic sun loungers, hoping to get a more intense tan, while others, on the contrary, tried to hide from the hot sun rays under multi-colored umbrellas, which, moreover, periodically sprayed their owners with refreshing clean water. Near the shore, a small group of activists cheerfully repeated dance moves behind a beautiful swarthy Italian woman, standing knee-deep in the water, and not far from them near the shore, several teenagers, having fun talking and creating sandcastles with the help of magic wands, now and then adding new elements to an almost finished kingdom of sand. Suddenly, right above them, a flock of children flew in a magic boat, rushing three feet above the ground. The ship slightly touched one of the castles, so it instantly collapsed, and angry exclamations of teenagers rushed after the children.  


Hermione immediately kicked off her sandals and walked towards the sparkling transparent sea. Her feet were softly buried in the warm sand, and a gentle breeze caressed her skin. There was a pleasant unobtrusive music on the beach, that seemed to emphasize the beauty of the surf’s sound so pleasant to the ear.  


Hermione came closer to the shore, and when a wave touched her feet, she stopped and closed her eyes. She deeply breathed in the scent of the sea with delight and thought that this was the scent of happiness. When Hermione opened her eyes, she noted that she hadn't experienced such an obvious feeling of pleasure and warm flutter in her chest for a long time. The endless sea that she had read so much about, stretched before her eyes. The water was crystal clear, with a light azure tint, the bottom with white sand and small nimble fish scurrying from side to side was visible.  


Hermione went ankle-deep and regretted not wearing a swimsuit. She wanted to plunge into the sea completely, to feel the gentle warmth of water with every cell of her body. But she reassured herself with the thought that such an opportunity would be presented to her more than once, and therefore simply silently enjoyed the soft oncoming waves, which strove to drag her along with them into the depths of the sea.  


It was the time to return to the bungalow since she hadn’t even unpacked yet, but Hermione couldn't leave. For too long she shielded herself from the opportunity of simply enjoying her life, she blocked any thought about resting for too long, in fear of being too relaxed and losing her working tone. But here, where the gentle sea breeze enveloped her from head to toe, and the perky Latin American rhythms beckoned to dance, where the wine flowed like a river, and the chest was bursting with euphoria, it would be unforgivable stupidity to think about work and other routine matters. So Hermione mentally sent all her work duties to hell and enjoyed breathing in the sunny scent of the sea with a smile. Finally, she was truly happy.

__*Stupida gallina!(it.) – Stupid chicken!_  
**Luccicante e memorabile (it.) – Vivid and memorable  
***Grazie mille (it.) – Thank you very much  
****Prego, bella! (it.) – You’re welcome, beauty!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! A small digression from the interpreters of this wonderful fanfiction: we would like to emphasize once again how important it's for us what we are doing now and the very fact that it's happening. We often read fanfiction in Russian, and we also quite often read it in English - in the original, but we never thought that we would ever begin to translate works of significance to us for an English-speaking audience. This a new step for all of us, something super interesting, even atypical and no less exciting. We'd love to hear your feedback! We hope that you will love this work as much as we do. So enjoy reading :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Soundtrack – Giants Of Latin «I Will Survive – Salsa»_

"El, are you ready? Just a little longer, and I'll change my mind about going to this stupid show," Draco shouted displeasedly into the emptiness of the room. He got ready about half an hour ago, but Elisa was still tidying herself up. 

Draco hated waiting, especially because he always had to wait exclusively for women with their endless preparations, as if for the Best Witch of the Year award. 

Other than that, Draco's money and connections made it possible for him to never kick heels. However, with women it was different. Once they got into their heads a stupid idea that a lady should always be late at least half an hour for a meeting with a gentleman, and now they followed this tradition with pleasure. So El was no exception, even though they had lived together for a long time. 

Bored, Draco stared at the invitation to the evening show that someone had left on the coffee table in their bungalow. It was rectangular in shape and small in size, twisted gold letters solemnly shimmered on expensive burgundy hard paper with a symbolic magnolia in the upper right corner. The text was simple – just a few formal words about how happy and satisfied everyone is that Mister Malfoy and Miss Carrera are on vacation at the best resort in the wizarding world, and then an urgent request to attend the entertainment show "Acquaintance Party" that will take place in the Great Hall at 9:00 p.m. Malfoy was well acquainted with the Magnolia's rules, so he knew that he and El were simply obliged to go there, otherwise they would have to pack their bags due to the non-performance of the contract. He didn't really care, but Elisa for sure would be furious. 

Draco casually tossed the invitation aside. Who made up the fucking rules anyway? Now, every time this piece of cardboard appears, he will know that he is being forced to do another bollocks again, even if it's for "his own good". That was what the young Veela who had met them this morning had said. And the choice of colour for the invitation – you can't think of a better one: burgundy with gold. Welcome to fucking Gryffindor! The association made Draco's already bad mood even worse. He immediately remembered Elisa's heartwarming story about her wonderful vacation in Egypt with the Weasleys. He wished he hadn't asked her how she knew those redheads. And worst of all, Draco had promised El to be "discreet and considerate" when meeting with "her friends" next time. Only think, she calls these bastards her friends! And on top of that, demands that he tries to be "as nice as possible" with them. He hadn't heard such sheer nonsense since his close friendship with Parkinson, that he didn't fail to inform El about. It's easier for Draco to be "nice" with Dementors than with the Golden Trio, but for some reason, Elisa didn't care about this comparison. "Friends of my friends are my friends too!" – that's what she told him at the end of their conversation and it made Draco's jaw drop. 

At these thoughts, Malfoy involuntarily jumped up from the sofa, barely suppressing a keen desire to hit something with all his strength. And how could he have made her that damn promise?! 

His inner monologue was suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice with an Italian accent: 

"You don't seem to be looking forward to a beautiful evening, do you?" Elisa said, grinning as she entered the room. 

She looked gorgeous in her black cocktail dress with a string of pearls around her neck. 

"Waiting, by its definition, can't be joyful," Draco stated grimly, looking at her from under his brows. "And I would argue about the beauty of the evening." 

El laughed and walked over to him in a relaxed way. 

"Mio caro Draco! And when will your pessimism dry up?" 

"You mean, my realism? Never", he calmly offered her an elbow, still being far from the good mood. 

"Never say never, dear. Fate sometimes plays strange games with us." 

With that, El took Draco's arm and they headed for the Great Hall. 

The street was stuffy and crowded. The chirping of insects was heard everywhere, and somewhere in the distance pleasant live music was already playing invitingly. Dressed in their most expensive outfits, wizards were coming from all directions, rushing to the show in hope to get the best seats. It was getting dark slowly, and the huge palace of "the Beautiful Magnolia" was littered with millions of coloured lights. Draco couldn't help but notice its incredible beauty. This is probably the only thing he truly admired at the resort. 

Finally, Draco and El entered the Great Hall and stopped for a while, not knowing where to go next. 

The hall looked different than it had at dinner. The room was semi-dark, only the bright light of the searchlights partially illuminated it. The stage, surrounded by wide steps glimmering in different colours, now completely occupied the entire right wall. The show has obviously not started yet. At the moment, an Italian band was performing on stage to warm up, singing groovy songs in their native language. Right in front of the stage, a large area with a shiny parquet floor was cleared, on which many wizards were already dancing. The tables this time were moved much closer to each other and there seemed to be no more empty seats. 

Draco took Elisa's hand and began to make his way through the dancing crowd to the tables. Every now and then the witches tried to pull him along in a Latin rhythm, but one look from him was enough to stop them from trying. Finally, once he was out of the crowd, Draco took another hard look around the room. His attention was drawn to the centre table in the second row, where a pretty young witch was just leaving. Draco, like a Seeker on a Quidditch field, who saw the Snitch, instantly appeared next to the girl, beckoning El to follow him. 

"Excuse me, signorina, is this table free?" Malfoy asked with a disarming smile. To be honest, he knew how to be damn charming, if he needed to, of course. 

The witch threw her head up in surprise and gave Draco a quick, appraising look, then broke into a smile of approval. 

"Yes, sir, my friends and I decided to move further away. Take a seat, please." 

Draco caught the French accent in her speech. It seems that El wasn't lying when she said that wizards from all over the world were staying here. 

"Thank you, miss," he said, bowing slightly. "And by the way, your English is amazing!" 

The girl blushed rather embarrassedly and said, looking sideways at El: 

"Thank you, mister! But I have to go to that outermost table over there. Au revoir!*" 

With that, the Frenchwoman dived into the crowd, giving Draco one last interested glance. 

"Have a nice evening!" Draco waved after her with the same charming smile, but as soon as the girl finally disappeared into the crowd, relief was instantly reflected on his face. "Looks like we just had some fucking luck, El. Glory to France!" 

It seemed that Elisa didn't see the point in starting another conflict over another mini-performance arranged by Draco, and therefore she just nodded and as if trying to calm down the jealousy that was raging in her chest. 

"We're at the Magnolia, remember? Everything here is for the best," El smiled tightly, obviously hoping that Draco wouldn't notice her mood. 

And although he noticed, he didn't show it. 

As soon as they sat down, a bright candlelight instantly lit on their table, making the atmosphere even more festive and romantic at the same time. Besides, out of nowhere, two large glasses on a thin stem and a wine list that allowed to choose the alcohol to taste appeared right in front of them. El chose the famous Italian wine "Orvieto", while Draco chose the national "Marsala". Taking out his wand, Malfoy touched the selected names on the wine list, and at the same moment two exquisite bottles appeared on the table. Draco watched as they opened in sync and now poured the wine into the glasses themselves. 

"It's an extraordinary atmosphere here, don't you think?" El asked with a slight half-smile, resting her chin on her hand. 

"Hmm, maybe not all so bad," Malfoy agreed, slowly looking around the room. He didn't want to admit it, but he even liked it here: pleasant music, dim light, good wine and a beautiful girl by his side. What could be better? 

Draco smiled slightly at the thought, took the glass in his hand and lifted it. He wasn't actually a fan of toasting, but decided to give in to an impulse. 

"Let's drink to what makes the atmosphere of this hall really great. To you!" 

His words sounded somewhat pompous, but Elisa was flattered. Draco rarely expressed his feelings for her. It seemed that something in his character didn't allow him the freedom of speech that was accepted among her native Italian people. Or maybe he just felt that this attracted Elisa even more, and therefore was so stingy with romantic words? He didn't know himself. 

"No, here's to you," El said with satisfaction, raising her glass in response. "If it weren't for you, I definitely wouldn't be here, so the credit is all yours." 

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, as if competing, to see who will win. 

"Okay, then I suggest you drink to us," Malfoy said after a short pause. 

"To us!" El approved the proposal and, clinking glasses with him, drained the glass to the bottom. 

Draco could see her watching him, unlike her, sipping the wine in small sips to get a better taste of it. Raising his glass over the candle, Draco peered at the colour of the liquid, slightly narrowing one eye, and Elisa smiled slightly: she knew he was quite good at wine. Well, she was aware that Draco was generally well educated because he knew a lot about almost all areas of life. Once, in response to her question about how he knew everything, Malfoy mentioned with a grim smile that he had someone to compete in knowledge during his school years. 

Trying to get rid of those memories, Draco finally finished his wine and said with satisfaction: 

"Pretty good." 

Elisa didn't say anything to that. She just stared into his features more and more, as if admiring them. Draco knew that his unusual beauty, combined with the crazy energy that drove women crazy, was both a treat and a curse for her. With such a temperamental and jealous disposition, it was difficult for her to withstand the constant attention from women to Draco, especially when he deliberately used his attractiveness. And although she was sure that he was faithful to her, and his whole game of seduction is really nothing more than an easier way for him to achieve a goal, El couldn't fully accept it. 

And she often said that she always missed him, even when he was around. And then she repeated that Draco would never belong to her alone – he would always give a piece of himself to each of these women, and each would consider herself special. But she didn't want to be like everyone else and so she did her best not to show her strong feelings – she wanted to appear more independent and strong than she really was. 

But most of all, she was desperate that neither she, nor one of these many women, ready to give everything just to be with Draco, could fill the void that had been burned in his soul by the past. Malfoy had told her very little about himself, but it was enough to tell how much those memories hurt him. And so, no matter how hard she tried, there was nothing she could do about it. 

Draco, catching the change in Elisa's gaze, asked warily: 

"Is something wrong?" 

"No, honey, it's just..." El smiled sadly, gently touching his cheek. "I get scared sometimes. I'm afraid that one day I'll wake up in the morning and you won't be there." 

Draco took Elisa's hand and gazed into her eyes. 

"That's impossible," he said in a serious tone. "Impossible for one simple reason: I never leave without saying goodbye." 

El laughed bitterly. Of course, what answer was she hoping for? Did she really think that he would start swearing to love her eternally? It would be foolish to expect such a thing from him – Draco Malfoy, and Elisa knew it, so she just shook her head and turned away, trying to hide the pain so clearly showing on her face right now. 

At that moment, as if to save them, a tall Italian man in a neat uniform with a beautiful magnolia badge on his chest appeared out of nowhere right in front of the table. 

"Excuse me, lady and gentleman, for distracting you but can you tell me if there are still seats available at your table?" 

Draco and El looked around and found that their table was slightly larger than the others, with several empty chairs around it. 

"Yes, sir. Do I understand correctly that you want to seat someone next to us?" El asked politely, trying to distract herself from bad thoughts. 

"If you don't mind, signorina," the Italian smiled at her obligingly. "You see, unfortunately, we cannot add extra tables to the hall today, and all the seats are mostly taken at this point." 

"I understand you, signor, don't worry, we don't mind. It will be just an excuse to meet some new people," Elisa assured the guy and looked sideways at Draco. 

He curled his lips in displeasure, but said nothing out loud. After all, he owed her. 

"Thank you, signorina," the Italian said with relief, and hastily disappeared into the crowd, apparently afraid they might change their minds. 

Draco turned to look at El and raised an eyebrow. 

"The best resort in the wizarding world, you say?" 

"Oh, stop it, caro mio," El waved him off. "Consider this as a new opportunity to meet some wonderful people and..." 

But Draco's rude exclamation suddenly interrupted her. 

"Bloody Merlin, what the actual fuck?" 

Elisa turned around and once again was convinced that nothing happens by accident at this resort. 

* * * 

"I don't see our Italian friend. And you, Hermione?" Ginny asked, peering into the crowd. 

"Neither do I," she said, annoyed, as she took one last look at the uniformed wizards in the hall. "I don't think he's here." 

"I think we can ask any waiter for help," Ron said irritably. "We don't have to look for this Matteo." 

Hermione and Ginny gave him the same reproachful eyes, but they still didn't argue, because Ron was right. 

It's just that the two of them, however, wanted to turn to Matteo for help: he instilled confidence in them from the very first meeting. For some reason, it was believed that Matteo was able to solve any problem they had at The Beautiful Magnolia, and the lack of free tables was obviously a serious problem on their first day at the resort. 

Harry, preferring not to waste time, called the waiter over. 

"Excuse me, signor, could you help us find a free table for four?" 

"Of course, sir," the tall Italian answered quickly, smiling obligingly. "Please wait here! I'll be right back." 

After these words, the waiter briskly dived into the crowd and disappeared from their sight. 

"The problem is almost solved," Harry turned to his friends, pleased. "Seems that you don't need this Matteo after all." 

"Oh, Harry-Harry, I guess, you and Ron aren't destined to comprehend female psychology and understand the true reasons for women's actions," Ginny said theatrically with pretend sadness in her voice, winking significantly at Hermione. 

"Are you hinting that the reasons lie not in the professionalism of that Italian, but in those tight shirts he wears?" Harry's eyes narrowed as he slowly approached her. 

"Oh, so you've noticed too?" Ginny asked with mock surprise. "Maybe you should also use it to good advant…" 

Before Ginny could finish, Harry suddenly grabbed her by the waist and lifted her into the air. She screamed in surprise, but immediately burst out laughing. 

Hermione watched with a smile as Ginny, swinging her legs in the air, tried to free herself from Harry's tenacious embrace, and Harry, in turn, didn't want to lower her to the ground until she promised that the topic of shirts would be closed forever. 

Many have already begun to look at them, but the lovers didn't care. They were fooling around like children, and at the same time looked so happy that Hermione couldn't help but laugh softly at them. She liked to observe the relationships of her friends because in her eyes their love was growing stronger and stronger. But Ron, it seems, has not yet been able to get used to the fact that his sister will very soon marry his best friend, whom he himself considered his own brother. Ron felt uncomfortable when the two showed their affection for each other in his presence. Even now, he was shifting from one foot to the other, his face turned away in displeasure. Hermione put her hand gently on his shoulder and smiled softly. 

"Ron..." 

"It's okay, Hermione, I'm good," he said, frowning a little harshly. "It's just... I can't get used to it." 

"Ron, she's not a little girl anymore," Hermione said slightly. 

"Yes, I know, I know," he dismissed and stared gloomily into the distance. 

Hermione knew that it was better not to bother him at that moment, so she simply stood next to him, looking in the same direction. Right in front of their noses loomed the figures of dancing wizards. They were laughing and singing along to the band. Hermione noticed that she herself was involuntarily beating the rhythm with her foot, humming catchy tunes under her breath. 

There was a sense of joyful anticipation in the hall for the upcoming show, because no one knew what was waiting for them. Hermione herself hadn't thought about it, just trying to enjoy every moment. Today's walk had helped her to realize a lot. Hermione decided that if she was in such a magical place where everything was conducive to rest and fun, then she should rest and have fun without thinking about anything. Come what may. Nothing is going to ruin her mood today. 

Less than five minutes later, the waiter, who had promised to help his friends, reappeared. 

"Sir, I found a wonderful table in the centre of the hall right in front of the stage, but would you mind if two other nice wizards would be sitting nearby?" He asked Harry helpfully. 

He looked inquiringly at his friends and, hearing no objection, shook his head. 

"Of course not, signor! Thank you so much for your help!" Harry said happily. 

The waiter beamed and waved his hand away after bowing. 

"Then follow me!" 

The Italian maneuvered his way through the dancing wizards so that friends could barely keep up with him. Hermione walked next to Ginny, who had to be pulled back every now and then to keep her from dancing. The hall was filled with rousing music, a pleasant floral fragrance was in the air, and colourful lights seemed to invite everyone to join in the enthusiastic fun. Hermione rarely attended parties, and even then, only those that were timed to coincide with some super important events, like Bill's wedding or Hogwarts prom. Therefore, she felt a little uncomfortable, however, it didn't prevent her from enjoying the atmosphere that reigned in this beautiful hall. 

Finally, they emerged from the crowd, and Hermione followed the Italian around the tables. Didn't he say that they'd be sitting somewhere in the centre? Hermione looked around for the centre table with empty seats and froze. She blinked in shock, hoping desperately that she was imagining things. Therefore, if not, then in the second row in the center was none other than Draco Malfoy. But this is still half the trouble: it was his table that had empty seats. Hermione's stomach dropped, and she involuntarily slowed her pace, looking at him dumbfounded. 

Anything but that. Malfoy, as if sensing her gaze, turned sharply and froze in disbelief. 

"Signorina, please, keep up," the waiter turned to Hermione and, without waiting for an answer, he strode confidently back to that very unfortunate table. 

Hermione hastily looked away from Malfoy and, trying to pretend not to notice him, calmly followed the Italian. She frantically looked around, hoping to find another empty table, but the closer they got to Draco Malfoy, the faster her hopes collapsed like a house of cards. Hermione could feel Draco's gaze, but on principle tried not to look at him, as if hoping that by doing so, he could disappear. Maybe it'd help. Matteo himself said that all wishes are fulfilled at this resort. This thought encouraged Hermione a little, and she even smiled slightly, continuing to wander around and pointedly ignore the blonde crown. But her attempt was ruined by Ron's harsh voice: 

"Don't tell me we're going to have to sit at the same table with him!" 

Hermione couldn't help but look up and see that the Italian had stopped at Malfoy's table and was now waiting with a satisfied smile for the four friends to approach him. Draco was looking at Hermione quizzically, and Elisa was peeking over his shoulder in surprise, who Hermione hadn't noticed at first. 

"Here's your table and those lovely wizards I was talking about!" persistently said the waiter, obviously not understanding the strange reaction of the tourists, who had asked for help themselves, and now for some reason were in no hurry to sit down on the empty seats. 

"Oh, grazie, signore!**" Elisa quickly thanked the waiter for the compliment and turned her surprised gaze to the friends standing in front of her. "Ginny, bella, what a surprise!" 

"I've always hated surprises," Draco muttered to himself, continuing to scoff at their stunned faces. 

"That's for sure, a complete surprise!" Ginny said quickly, pushing Hermione aside and smiling as she moved closer to the table. "Good evening Elisa! And... Draco." 

Malfoy nodded slightly in response and picked up the glass. 

The intermission is over, the show continues. 

"And good evening to you all!" Elisa smiled back, casting a glance at the others, and added: "Come on, come here! Have a seat!" 

Ginny shot a warning glance at Ron and Harry and sat down next to Elisa. Harry reluctantly followed her, nodding gloomily to Draco instead of greeting, while Ron defiantly turned away, preferring to ignore Malfoy completely. 

It all looked like someone's bad joke. Hermione wanted to cry and laugh at the same time at the comic situation. And she really hoped for a normal, pleasant evening spent in the company of the people most dear to her. Her grandmother had once told her correctly – you should never make any plans. But maybe it's not too late? 

Hermione seized on the thought and, after greeting Elisa, quickly walked over to the waiter. 

"Tell me, signor, are you sure that there are no more empty seats at any of the tables?" she asked him softly. 

"Unfortunately, yes, signorina. Are there any problems?" the Italian looked at her with concern. 

"Yes... I mean, no, I was just wondering," Hermione assured him, and with a forceful smile, added: "Thank you for your help!" 

"You're welcome! If you have any questions, just let me know, bella!" answered the waiter and Apparated with a dull pop. 

Hermione looked longingly at the place where the Italian had just been. Yeah, the situation could be much better. She couldn't imagine that her first evening in the Magnolia she would have to spend in the company of Draco Malfoy, who would probably try to ruin the whole night. What's more – his mere presence was already a powerful blow to self-control. This thought made Hermione involuntarily angry. Well, no. Whatever it is, she couldn't stop enjoying her well-deserved vacation. 

Throwing her head proudly and then forcing herself to smile, Hermione finally turned around and looked at the table. Ginny and Harry sat next to Elisa, but Ron wasn't so lucky, because he had to take a seat to the right of Draco Malfoy. Another empty chair was next to Ron. Hermione thought that if not for her, Ron would hardly have tolerated such proximity to Malfoy. 

Hermione walked over to the table with a sigh and sat down next to Ron. Elisa was just talking enthusiastically about something, but it was obvious that everyone present felt ill at ease. Ginny smiled tightly occasionally looking anxiously at Harry, who kept his wary gaze on Malfoy. 

Draco sipped his wine in silence peering into the liquid at the bottom of the glass. And Ron sat with his arms crossed over his chest looking like if there was a huge pile of dung under his nose. 

"Oh, Hermione! I was just telling Ginny about how great the beach is. Have you been there yet?" Elisa called her carelessly, trying to strike up a conversation. 

"Yes, the beach is amazing" Hermione answered absently, thinking in advance – just in case – under what pretext she could leave. Could she pretend to be sick? Or pretend that she forgot something in the bungalow, and then just stay there? She can even say that she merely wanted to sleep: after all, the first day of vacation brought so many impressions. 

"I think, El, our companions need to relax a little. For example, have a glass of good wine," Malfoy's voice interrupted Hermione's thoughts. Did it sound... friendly? 

Everyone stared at Draco warily. There was silence at the table. Malfoy looked at them calmly and said lazily: 

"I assume silence is a sign of consent? Okay, I'll just choose something for my taste." 

With that, he took the wine list and casually touched one of the names with a tip of his wand. A transparent glass bottle of a beautiful elongated shape with white wine immediately appeared in the air. Its label showed a sunset reflected in the sea with delicate pink highlights, and against the backdrop of the sun going into the water, seagulls flew over and over again. 

Then as if remembering something Draco turned the page and touched another title. Following the wine, a glass with an orange liquid appeared on the table. 

"Why the hell are you so caring, Malfoy?" Harry asked with gloomy wariness, voicing the question that was on the tongue of everyone present. 

"Oh, I'm just trying to be nice, Harry," Draco replied nonchalantly with a beaming smile. Potter clenched his hands into fists, but said nothing: he promised Ginny not to get involved in a fight with Malfoy next time. But it was clear that he wanted to wipe that poisonous smile from Malfoy's face! 

"Draco," El said warningly looking down at him. 

"What? Are you against wine?" he asked raising an eyebrow, and with a movement of his hand stopped the bottle which was about to start pouring the delicate golden liquid into the glasses. 

"I just hope you remember our conversation," El said quietly through her teeth while maintaining a deceptively good-natured expression on her face. 

"Of course, dear," Malfoy nodded with a smirk and whispered conspiratorially in her ear: "That's why I'm taking care of your wonderful friends." 

Draco snapped his fingers at these words, and the bottle poured wine into three empty glasses and gently sank onto the table. Next, Malfoy pointed his wand at the carafe which filled the last remaining glass with orange liquid. Another click – and the vessels flew to different sides of the table to each of those present. Next to Hermione was a glass of orange liquid. 

"What is it, Malfoy?" Ron asked disgustedly. 

"This, Weasley, is one of the finest white Italian wines, right, El?" he turned to his girlfriend. 

"Yes, Draco is right," she answered carefully wondering what he was up to. "This really is an excellent wine." 

"Don't play dumb, Malfoy," Ron said roughly. "I'm asking about Hermione's glass. What did you pour her?" 

"Ron!" Ginny called out warningly. But Draco didn't care about the Weasleys style of speaking. He looked as if he had just noticed that something else was poured in Hermione's glass. 

"Ah, this..." he nodded bored towards the decanter. "Don't worry, Ronald, it's just pumpkin juice." 

Pumpkin juice. Hermione told herself to stay calm. It is a wonderful evening with pleasant music and some ferret can't spoil her evening? She should simply ignore him, not succumb to provocations. Relax and have fun. Just relax and have fun. 

"Why did you pour her pumpkin juice, Malfoy?" Harry cut in glaring at Draco. 

"Aren't there too many questions for the first minute of a lovely conversation?" Draco asked calmly with slight frowning while he was filling his glass with red wine. 

"Answer!" Harry and Ron snapped at the same time, causing Malfoy to put the bottle back in its place with displeasure. He looked at them as if they didn't see something obvious. For a while he was silent and was looking from one to the other, but soon his expression changed dramatically. Draco seemed to have some sort of realization. He gave Hermione an expressive look as if he'd just learned that she had enslaved all the house-elves in the world. 

"Granger, do you drink alcohol?!" Draco finally exclaimed in mock surprise with widened eyes. Hermione was ready to kill him. Malfoy was mocking. But no, she shouldn't pay attention to him. He's not worth it. Although, if she reaches out to the glass and turns around, it will be very easy to pour this pumpkin juice right on his head. 

"Shut up Malfoy," Ron spat hatefully. He had almost reached the highest point of his anger and was ready to start fighting at any moment. 

"Wait, Ronald, I'm not talking to you right now," Draco said in the tone of a worried mother and turned his gaze back to Hermione. "Granger, I'll pour you some wine, if you insist, of course, but what about your whole reputation as a prim, pristine and decent student from Gryffindor? Although no, with "pristine" I went too far." 

Hermione mechanically grabbed onto Ron, who was almost raising his fist to strike, and narrowing her eyes angrily, she blurted out Draco in the face: 

"Thanks for looking after my reputation, Malfoy, but if I were you, I'd rather think about yours. You see, being too attentive to people doesn't at all correspond to your real image as a pathetic Death Eater." 

Malfoy's eyes darkened, and there was no trace of feigned concern left. 

"Hold your tongue, Mudblood, or I'll have to remind you what your real image is. Although I'm sorry, I've already reminded. You see, dirt always catches your eye involuntarily." 

Hermione took in more air to answer, but El exclaimed: 

"Stop, it's enough already!" 

Everyone turned to her in surprise. The Italian looked angry. 

"If you're so impatient to have a discussion about your damn relationship, you can do it any other time," she barked caustically, flashing her eyes. "And you, Draco, should be ashamed of your words. We both know that the purity of blood isn't important. I mean, now you know it for sure." 

Hermione looked at her with wide eyes. She had never seen anyone from Malfoy's inner circle shame him, especially in the presence of people he hates. And that statement by Elisa about the purity of blood... Did she and Draco discuss this? Then the Italian should know how much Malfoy hates Muggleborn wizards. At school, the word "Mudblood" was his favourite insult to Hermione. 

But what Elisa said was thought-provoking. What did she mean by saying that now Draco knows for sure that the purity of blood isn't the main thing? Had Malfoy told her about something that made him treat Muggles differently? It was hard to believe. But, on the other hand, he probably trusts Elisa much more than all his henchmen put together, so he can tell her a lot. She wondered how Malfoy would rehabilitate himself after such words of his girlfriend: would he start making excuses or go into attack? Or maybe he would leave, making a scene and saying that Elisa is talking utter nonsense? It would be just perfect. Not to see Malfoy, not to hear his poisonous words, and just to calmly enjoy the evening – isn't it just a little, but happiness? Hermione smiled faintly at her thoughts and waited with gloating anticipation for the development of events. 

But to her disappointment, Malfoy didn't act the way she expected. He just exhaled noisily, and after a few seconds, one of those nasty socialite smiles appeared on his face, which he condescendingly bestowed on those whom he considered more stupid than himself. "Of course, El, that's not the point," he said conciliatory, and casually leaned back in his chair. "I was just trying to be friendly, although the consequences were, as you can see, very dire." 

What, that's it? Is that all he could answer?! Hermione was disappointed. Did he really just agree with Elisa so easily? 

El glared at Malfoy who was pretending to be holy innocence and snorted in displeasure. It became obvious to Hermione that the skunk simply doesn't want to argue, and therefore agrees with her while remaining unconvinced. Sly bastard. 

"Oh Malfoy, do you know what friendliness is?" Ron snapped contemptuously, wrenching Hermione out of her reverie. From the very moment they sat down at the table, it was clear that he wasn't abandoned by a wild desire to strangle Draco. 

"Stop it, Ron!" Ginny said sternly. "Or..." 

But she didn't get a chance to finish, because suddenly the hall was illuminated with a bright flash of light and again plunged into the festive twilight. Solemn music began to play, the sound of fanfare announced that the show was about to begin. The wizards who were on the dance floor scattered hastily to their places, and the waiters fussed more than ever, helping the guests to sit down. In the end, the parquet floor in front of the stage remained empty, illuminated only by the bright, wandering spotlights. But suddenly something happened that plunged everyone present into bewilderment: the hall was covered with pitch darkness, and it became so frighteningly quiet that some of the wizards began to fuss in fright. Hermione tried to make out at least something, but her eyes stubbornly didn't want to get used to the darkness. She couldn't even see the faces of her friends, and only by feeling Ron's hand, she was convinced that they were still here and didn't go anywhere. 

"What the fuck?..." she heard Malfoy's voice somewhere to her right, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel annoyed. It's just that this time he voiced her exact thoughts, in not such nice manner, of course. And then Hermione caught a strange growing sound. It looked like someone was beating a rhythm on an instrument she didn't know. By ear, it was a mixture of drums and accordion. The sound got louder and louder. Hermione's musical knowledge wasn't too broad, but she seems to have understood exactly what this rhythm is inherent in. 

"Damn it, this is tango," Ginny said aloud, and at that moment the polyphony of many musical instruments joined the lonely musical tone. 

The entire part of the hall where the stage and parquet were located, instantly lit up with a ghostly golden light, and the bright, scorching music finally completely absorbed the entire space. Holding her breath, Hermione waited for at least someone to appear on the stage, but it was still empty. And only when she turned her head and looked around, she saw that everyone was staring upward. Hermione followed their gazes and froze as magnificent couples descended from under the dome of the hall, dancing passionate tango right in the air. They were like heavenly creatures with their unearthly beauty, and they moved so easily and quickly to the rhythm of the music, descending lower and lower to the audience and creating amazing dance patterns. The girls were dressed in bright scarlet long dresses, dotted with what seemed to be billions of precious stones, shimmering in golden light, and their hands were tightly covered with long satin gloves, emphasizing the graceful lines. The guys dressed in black tailcoats, confidently led their partners, with all the passion they convey the spirit of such an intriguing dance as tango. Hermione didn't doubt that all the dancers were descendants of Veela, because ordinary people are simply physically incapable of being so graceful and beautiful at the same time. 

The music developed increasing the tempo and adding more and more violins and accordion, and the dancers were moving faster and faster, and they were already like a single whole, blinding the beauty of the movement to all those who watched them. A strong, almost tangible tension was felt in the air, powerful energy of passion covered everyone present. The ecstatic exclamations and astonished sighs of the wizards were heard everywhere. 

The couples were already hovering about three feet above the parquet when suddenly the rhythm of the music changed, and the dancers quickly dispersed away from their partners to different sides of the hall in such a way that the girls were on one side and the guys on the other. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off the lovely Veela. Now she very clearly saw their perfect faces and bodies, striking in their plasticity. And suddenly the dancers' long dresses were transformed into new outfits. The Veela costumes still shimmered with precious stones playing in different shades, only now the girls were dressed in short bright skirts of different colours, beautifully flying apart in motion, and lace blouses tightly closed in front and completely exposing the back from the back. 

Hermione blinked in surprise and looked at the guys, whose costumes had also changed. They donned black trousers and bright shirts to match the colour of their partners' skirts. 

"It's amazing!" she admired aloud, glancing at her friends. As she thought, everyone at the table was just as amazed as she was and holding their breath as they looked at the dancers. Only Malfoy sipped his wine coolly and seemed completely indifferent to what was happening. 

Hermione shook her head in disgust and turned her gaze back to the dancers. She almost forgot about his presence and wasn't going to break this pleasant illusion. 

Meanwhile, the couples were already practically touching the parquet with their toes, moving incendiary to the Latin American rhythms. Hermione didn't tell anyone, but as a child, her parents took her to dance classes for a couple of years, so now she could say with confidence that couples were dancing the cha-cha-cha dance. She involuntarily plunged into memories of those times when she wasn't yet a student at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry but lived the life of an ordinary normal child. She went dancing classes, met friends, attended a nearby Muggle school, and read fairy tales. But everything changed the moment she saw a strange owl with a letter in its beak on the windowsill of her house. After that moment not a trace remained of a carefree childhood. Already in the first year of her studies at Hogwarts, she was faced with such things that are sometimes beyond the power of adult wizards. And she was just a small ten-year-old. And this was only the beginning of such a difficult, but interesting path. 

"Mother of God, that's what I call a real show!" Ron's enthusiastic exclamation brought her out of her pensive state. Hermione flinched in surprise and focused her attention on the stage. She didn't even notice how the music changed again, and all the dancers had long gone down and were now dancing on the parquet right in front of the guests' tables. Frowning, Hermione finally realized what exactly served such indescribable delight of her ex-boyfriend: beautiful Veela, who had changed their outfits again, now defiled in only sparkling swimsuits, allowing everyone present to appreciate their excellent physical characteristics. The dancers wore twisted hats on their heads with long fluffy feathers, and on their backs they had large feather frames. Hermione had already guessed from these costumes that they were dancing the samba. The action on the stage resembled a Brazilian carnival, the riot of colours dazzled. Finally, the dancers lined up in a diagonal criss-cross and, to the final chords of the music, froze in beautiful poses. There was a storm of applause from all sides, it seemed that the people had gone crazy. As if undergoing a single impulse, the wizards jumped up from their seats and began to give a standing ovation. Ginny was the first to follow their example from their company, then Elisa and Ron, and the last to get up were Hermione and Harry. Malfoy remained to watch the frenzy on the spot with an arrogant grin, although he rewarded the dancers with rare claps. 

"Bravo!" Ron shouted folding his hands near his mouth and looking longingly at the beautiful Veela. Hermione felt a slight pang of jealousy but didn't show it: after all, Ron is free to behave as he wishes since they haven't dated for a long time. 

The dancers were still standing in their places when the sound of fanfare filled the hall again, and a tall, mature man with a stately appearance entered the stage. 

He was dark-skinned, dark-haired, and Italian. The lower part of his face was framed by a black beard, and the dark eyes, as if seeing through everyone present, exuded incredible strength and sincere good nature at the same time. 

"God, Draco, that's him," Elisa grabbed Malfoy's hand in amazement and began to peer at the wizard standing on the stage opening slightly her mouth. 

She seemed to know who this handsome Italian was, but Hermione's thoughts ended there. She just waited with interest to see what would happen next. 

Meanwhile, the man was looking around with a smile at all those present, then he raised a wand to his throat and muttered an incantation, loudly said: 

"Buona sera,*** dear ladies and gentlemen!" 

The hall was immediately filled with applause even louder than before, and many greeted the wizard with joyful hooting. After waiting for a little for the first wave of delight to subside, he continued: 

"My name is Lorenzo, and I'm the owner of the best resort in the wizarding world – “The Beautiful Magnolia”!" 

The audience applauded again, but the man motioned for them to stop and continued: 

"It's no secret that special magic works on the territory of the resort to help to change your life for the better. And the fact that you, dear guests, are here, is also no accident! Therefore, I sincerely congratulate you on such a wonderful opportunity – to enjoy all the delights of the Magnolia and to fulfill your innermost desires! 

For some, the events taking place here will seem like an unexpected revelation, and some won't even be surprised at the resulting situations, but in any case, remember always that the magic of the resort is limitless and so strong that any little thing that seemed to you a mere coincidence can play a fateful role in your life! I promise that here you will find your true happiness, even if it's not always clear to you in ways. In the meantime, I wish you with all my heart just enjoy a wonderful vacation! In turn, my colleagues whom you can recognize by uniform gowns and good mood and I will do our best to make every day like a fairy tale for you!" 

Lorenzo vigilantly scanned everyone present and, finally outstretched his arms to the sides and said proudly: 

"Benvenuti ne “La Bella Magnolia”!****" 

After these words, the audience burst into deafening applause again, and the wizard, bowing slightly, Apparated, dissolving in the ghostly light of the searchlights. 

Incendiary music played again, and Hermione turned to Ginny. 

"So this is who he is, the real owner of the Magnolia! I read so much about him, but for some reason, I never saw his name anywhere." 

"He reminds me of Professor Dumbledore in some way," Ginny said with a note of sadness in her voice. "He seemed to be giving his speech in the same way just before the start of the school year at Hogwarts." 

"Yes, only he usually had it half as long," Hermione said with a sad smile and involuntarily glanced at Draco. He noticeably darkened, apparently recalling the most terrible year in his life. The year Professor Dumbledore passed away, and it was partly his fault. Of course, Malfoy knew that the old wizard was doomed, knew that his mother had asked Severus Snape for help, knew about an Unbreakable Vow, he knew too much, but he couldn't change anything. Therefore, Hermione was sure that this terrible feeling of disgust for himself still burned him from the inside, forcing him at times to almost climb the wall from an intolerable feeling of guilt. 

She couldn't understand how she knew so much about Draco's agony and torment. She couldn't explain exactly why it was all so obvious to her. 

She suddenly felt unconsciously sorry for Malfoy. He may be an utter tosser, but such a punishment can't be wished even for him. 

"Draco, I have to go find him," Elisa said hotly, clutching his hand, which attracted Hermione's attention. El's gaze was almost insane, and she seemed restless. 

Hermione saw Malfoy hurriedly chase away the bad thoughts and turning his eyes to Elisa he said gravely: 

"Should I go with you?" 

She shook her head intensely from side to side. 

"No, please stay here. I have to... I want to do it alone, okay?" 

Her speech was confused and nervous. Draco looked into her face with an inquisitive silence as if he doubted her words, and then finally he asked: 

"El, are you sure?.." 

"Yes, I'm sure. Please wait for me here. I'll come as soon as... You understand," Elisa tucked a lock of hair behind her ear in excitement and jumped up from her seat. 

"Hey, El, where are you going? The show is only starting!" Ginny asked in bewilderment, grabbing the Italian by the hand. 

She stood for a moment, glanced at all those present and tried to smile: 

"Sorry, but I have to leave you temporarily. I'll try to come back as soon as possible!" 

Hermione frowned slightly as she watched the picture in front of her. She wondered what happened to Elisa and where was she going? Does it have something to do with Lorenzo? 

Meanwhile, El had already moved a few steps away from the table and, turning one last time shouted to Draco: 

"Promise that you will wait for me here, okay?" 

After these words when Malfoy doomy nodded, she quickly disappeared into the crowd. 

_Au revoir! – (fr.) Goodbye!_

_Oh, grazie, signore! – (it.) Oh, thank you, signor!_

_Buona sera – (it.) Good evening!_

_Benvenuti ne "La Mia Bella Magnolia!" – (it.) Welcome to My Beautiful Magnolia!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Soundtrack – Xtreme «Te Extrano»_

Draco was nervous. Elisa had been gone for about an hour, and he was stuck in the company of these idiots. After she left, they didn’t say a word to each other. Fortunately, the festive entertainment program began, and all the attention of the wonderful Gryffindors was focused exclusively on what was happening on the stage. This red-haired Weasley girl has already managed to participate in several contests, and once even pulled Potter along with her. How sweet, the wizarding world’s star saviour was back in the spotlight, only this time he looked really stupid. Draco watched with delight as the Weasley sister made a monkey out of Potter, trying to transfigure his clothes into baby rompers and make him portray a crying baby. He should compliment the organizers for this competition, where ten young couples had to show how they would nurse their future children. Moreover, one of the participants had to play the role of a child, and the other – an affectionate parent trying to calm the kid. Draco hadn’t laughed like that in a long time. As he noticed, even little Potty’s best friends couldn’t help but laugh. Weaselbee had been openly whinnied from the very beginning, and Granger seemed to rush about in doubts, unable to decide whether to worry or to laugh. But in the end, she gave up too, watching as Potter, blushing painfully, portrays a crying baby. Draco very much regretted that he didn’t have the opportunity to take the magical photographs so he could blackmail the Chosen One later on, if the need arises, of course.

Now the famous Italian singer was performing on the stage, singing light songs to the sounds of the orchestra in her native language. The tables were almost empty, as the wizards, succumbing to a sweet intoxication, began to flock to the dance floor. It was a little wild for Draco to see all these richly dressed wizarding elite dancing and fooling around like little children.

Perhaps he was too used to his father’s dry and formal receptions at their home estate, where all the wizards did nothing but ate delicious food, discuss the exciting plans of the Dark Lord and unobtrusively demonstrate their high financial status. Draco hated all the pomp, but he couldn’t imagine how it could be any different.

But now the moment had presented itself, and he had seen this "different" with his own eyes. The impression was ambiguous.

"Harry, please, just one dance!" Draco heard the red-haired Weasley’s pleading voice. It was obviously not enough for her to make Potter look like a complete dumbass today, she also wanted to add the title of the main idiot of the evening. Draco could swear that Potter didn’t know how to dance at all, remembering the Yule Ball in his fourth year, where he looked more like a clumsy cow than a school hero.

"Ginny, maybe another time?" Potty was still struggling.

"You always say that!" Weasley almost whimpered, and then added in a pleading tone: "Honey, I’m begging you, let’s dance!"

Draco almost let out a shout of victory when Potter finally followed her, looking resigned. No wonder Blaise had always said that only the girl in the Weasley family was worth something. Actually, he just wanted to fuck her, but that was another matter.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco noticed that Weasel and Granger were silently watching the crowd of dancers. They exchanged no more than a couple of words tonight. It seemed strange to Malfoy, considering that rumor had it that the redhead and the know-it-all were about to get married.

Suddenly, a tall black haired witch appeared next to their table. She cast an interested glance at Draco, but when she saw only indifference in response, she walked over to Ron.

"Excuse me, signor, how would you like to keep a lady company on the dance floor?" the brunette cooed, smiling shamelessly. Weasley immediately straightened up, but then slumped guiltily, turning to Granger with a pleading expression on his face.

"Go, of course, go," she assured him, as if in the hope that Weaselbee would finally go away and leave her alone.

"What about ...?" Ron nodded disagreeably at Draco, who tried to suppress a grin. Poor Ronnie, everyone is afraid that his precious dirty princess may be offended in his absence. How touching it is!

"Oh, don’t worry. If anything, I can always call you," Granger said, frowning slightly. Draco could see that she was trying to hide her annoyance, but Weasel, as always, noticed nothing and quickly galloped off to the dance floor with a new acquaintance girl.

The evening is getting interesting.

"I thought you were against open relationship, Granger," Draco said mockingly, nodding toward the departing couple. He took another sip of wine and felt the hops hitting him hard in the head. How much has he already had – four glasses, six? It was impossible to say for sure. Draco’s vision blurred, and he rubbed his eyes shut.

"Wouldn’t advise you to drink so much, Malfoy," the know-it-all coldly ignored his words.

Draco slowly opened his eyes and turned towards her. Granger’s face was a little blurry, but Malfoy forced himself to focus. She pointedly stared at the empty glass in his hand, her eyebrows raised.

"Granger, I don’t need your advice, if you haven’t guessed it already," Draco curled his lips and defiantly poured himself more wine. "Besides, how do you know if you yourself have never drunk anything heavier than a pumpkin juice in your entire life?"

"Your assumptions are ridiculous, Malfoy," Granger snorted and, after a moment’s hesitation, added: "It’s just that you already have it written on your face that you’re one glass away from falling under the table in a drunken stupor. I don’t want to bother with reviving you."

Draco almost laughed.

"Oh, how thoughtful of you! Admit it, dearie, you just once again wanted to save someone, and I turned out to be the most suitable for this role."

Hermione rolled her eyes and stared into the distance, ignoring Draco’s last remark.

And rightly so. There is no need to continue this meaningless communication any further. Obviously, they were both tired of each other, so the best thing she could do in this situation is to simply ignore him.

At that moment, Weasley loomed right in front of her eyes and it made Granger’s mood even worse. He was just turning his partner around under his arm, not taking a longed-for gaze from her.

Hermione swore and, mechanically grabbing the glass in front of her, took a sip.

Draco watched her surreptitiously. The candlelight softly illuminated her face with its flawless, matte skin, and it was only now that he realized how much she had changed. He hadn’t seen Granger for three years, and she had obviously grown up. Her facial features lost their childish plumpness, the eyes became wiser, and her habitually shaggy hair no longer stuck out in different directions – on the contrary, it fell in soft waves almost down to the waist. Draco might even have called her attractive if he didn’t know who she was. He was generally reluctant to put up with the idea that the dirty know-it-all was quite good-looking. Grudgingly, he had admitted it in his fourth year, when Granger had paraded arm in arm with Viktor Krum right in front of his nose during the Yule Ball and this beat him. At first Draco thought that the Bulgarian, with his many Quidditch games, must have been knocked off his head with a Bludger, since he invited such an ugly Mudblood to the ball, but soon, looking at Granger from a different angle, Draco realized that, in general, only outwardly, she wasn’t that terrible. It was akin to an unexpected and at the same time unpleasant discovery, because all his adult life Lucius persistently hammered into his head that Muggles are not people. To him, they were akin to monsters with four legs and ugly green heads. Until the age of eight, Draco seriously believed that Muggles looked like that, but for some reason Granger didn’t fit this description at all. On the contrary, she looked quite human, and from the end of the third year all sorts of idiots began to look at her, although she herself hardly noticed it. Even Goyle somehow sneeringly mentioned that he wasn’t averse to pop it in the Mudblood.

And yet, for Draco, Granger has always been a sexless creature, a free add-on to the world famous Harry Potter, and a pain in the arse. After all, it was beneath his dignity to realize that some Mudblood bypassed him in all subjects, and Lucius’s constant humiliating remarks about this made Draco hate the know-it-all almost as much as he hated Potter.

Draco grinned as he saw that Granger had easily drunk a whole glass of wine in just half a minute, but apparently she hadn’t noticed it herself. She was too absorbed in the sight before her. Weasley was already gripping that tall witch with might and main, she only laughed loudly, pulling him closer.

Such a dolt. The redhead was never particularly quick-witted, but only a complete idiot could behave like that in front of his girlfriend.

Draco shot a curious glance at Granger. She felt clearly uncomfortable, but, nevertheless, was looking at Weasley with only submissive doomness. Not a shadow of anger, resentment or anything else that girls usually feel in such situations.

Draco was intrigued.

"It’s none of my business, Granger, but it seems your lover is about to drag that girl into your sweet Gryffindor bunk," Draco said derisively, pointing his finger at the dancing couple. "Or is it customary for you to be a threesome all the time?"

Hermione gave him a murderous look, but crossed her arms over her chest and said nothing.

"You don’t have to answer that, though. It’s pretty obvious – Potter is getting married, it’s time to find a replacement," Draco persisted. For some reason, he was interested to find out what was going on between these two.

"Ron and I, we aren’t dating anymore," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "And anyway, as you said, this is none of your business."

"Oh..." Draco drawled in understanding, arching an eyebrow gracefully. "Then everything is clear."

With that, Malfoy finished his glass in one gulp, and seemed to have forgotten about Hermione’s existence. He gazed thoughtfully into the distance, slightly narrowing his eyes.

* * *

Once again that evening, Hermione wanted to kill him. They hadn’t spent much time together, but Malfoy had already spoiled her mood. It felt like he was created to make her life a living hell. Although, compared to his years at school, his behavior could be called angelic, but even so, Malfoy annoyed her terribly!

Suddenly, Hermione caught sight of a familiar silhouette in the crowd approaching their table. He was a young Italian man in a beautiful uniform robe, the magnolia gleamed with a ghostly light on it and was visible even from afar.

"Matteo!" Hermione exclaimed with joyful relief and even slightly raised herself in her chair.

The guy with a smile came close to the table and, nodding in greeting to Draco, cheerfully said:

"Good evening, Hermione! You look great!"

"Thank you for the compliment," she blushed slightly and immediately added: "We’ve been looking for you in the hall for so long! Where have you been?"

"Oh, I’m sorry, bella, but I had to run some errands," the Italian frowned a little. "Is something wrong?"

"No, it’s fine, it’s just that there were some issues that we’ve already resolved," Hermione said quickly, seeing the concerned expression on Matteo’s face. She didn’t want to get him involved in her personal conflicts with Malfoy.

"Are you sure that everything is fine? Hermione, you know I’m always ready to help you and your friends!" the Italian said seriously, looking her straight in the eye.

"Yes, Matteo, thank you very much, but everything is truly good," Hermione lied in a slightly trembling voice. The Italian evidently noticed this and quickly looked at Draco with an appraising glance. He looked completely indifferent to everything that was happening and, outwardly, didn’t arouse any suspicion.

"Well, in that case, please help me solve my problem," finally making sure that Malfoy had nothing to do with it, Matteo said gravely and slowly turned his heavy gaze on Hermione. He looked extremely worried, and his usually good-natured expression disappeared without a trace. It seemed that at this moment he even matured for ten years.

"Which one?" Hermione asked anxiously, holding her breath in anticipation of something terrible. Matteo was unrecognizable, and Hermione’s smile was gone, her body involuntarily tensed.

"Oh, I don’t even know how to say it, bella," sighed Matteo, bowing his head dejectedly. "It’s too complicated."

"Just start saying the first thing that comes to mind," Hermione said in a hushed voice, her eyes fixed on him. It seemed that she was internally prepared for the worst, because the Italian with all his appearance showed that it was so.

Mateo hesitated for a few seconds, then the corners of his lips twitched and he looked up at her. His eyes... were laughing? Hermione was completely confused.

"It’s my favorite song, and I still don’t have a dance partner. Could you pair up with me?" finally, with a broad smile, Matteo gave her his hand. Hermione froze with a startled expression on her face.

"Is this your problem?" she asked incredulously, enunciating every word.

"Yes, and if you don’t agree, it will take on a universal scale. So, do you agree?" answered Matteo quickly, expectantly drilling her with laughing eyes.

Hermione exhaled noisily. Is that all? Had he been joking all along, and she, like a naive fool, had fallen for it? As if in answer to Hermione’s mental question, Malfoy choked on his wine and coughed, trying to hide his laughter. She once again experienced a fit of anger during the evening.

A vile ferret.

"Are you asking if I agree? If this is the only problem, then I certainly agree!" perhaps, too loudly and insistently answered Hermione and took Matteo’s hand, throwing a scathing look in Malfoy’s direction. "Just promise me – no more jokes," she sternly threatened the Italian with her finger.

The man laughed contentedly.

"I won’t, I promise."

With these words, Matteo with a smile led her to the dance floor, after politely nodding goodbye to Draco.

* * *

Malfoy was amused by the scene he saw. It was the first time in his life that he had ever seen someone flirt with Granger, and watching her reaction to it was the funniest thing of all. The girl didn’t seem to know how to flirt at all and didn’t know how to behave if a man showed her signs of attention. It wasn’t obvious with the naked eye, but Draco knew a lot about women, so he could have sworn that Granger hadn’t even noticed the way the Italian was looking at her, and she certainly hadn’t thought about what that might mean on his part. Although, perhaps, not being a flirt by nature, she just deliberately tried to ignore the obvious interest of men, programming herself for books, saving the world, and other rubbish so beloved by the Mudblood.

Draco stretched blissfully at the pleasant realization that now he was finally completely alone. El was still out of sight, but at least none of the Gryffindor trio annoyed him with their presence. On the contrary, it was a great opportunity to admire the dancing fiasco of the golden minions of fortune.

Draco involuntarily looked up at Granger and saw that she began to move uncertainly to the beat of the music next to this waiter or whatever. She danced well, but it was obvious that her prim nature didn’t allow Granger to open up completely and give herself up to the rush of music. Although, maybe everything is still ahead? In any case, Draco had no choice but to pass the time alone, so he decided to keep an eye on her a little longer. And there was Weasley, who seemed to have forgotten about the girl’s existence. He was glaring murderously at the Italian who had danced with Granger. She tried to pretend that she didn’t notice anything, and occasionally glanced at Draco unkindly.

Yes, it looked like he annoyed her today. Frankly, Malfoy didn’t know what was causing him to push Granger to her edge, but he couldn’t handle her any differently. Perhaps the old habits are rooted firmly in him.

Meanwhile, Hermione, with all her Gryffindor bravery, tried not to step on Matteo’s feet and desperately tried to forget that they were under the gaze of hundreds of wizards. She thought she was terribly awkward, but of course she wasn’t.

The Italian led her in the dance deftly, through her hands she could feel him giving her the impulse to move in one direction or another. It was quite obvious that Matteo was fluent in the art of dance, which made Hermione feel like a clumsy forest troll against his background. Malfoy added fuel to the fire, who seemed to deliberately keep his eyes on her in his mocking arrogant manner. He looked relaxed in an untucked black shirt with loose sleeves and matching trousers. Even from the distance, Hermione could see his gleaming earring in his left ear and a dark tattoo patch on his right forearm.

Pretty odd, but when she was sitting next to him, she didn’t pay attention to it. So Malfoy still had the Dark Mark. Hermione winced at the thought, and she quickly looked away from him.

"Relax a little," she heard Matteo say.

Hermione shuddered frightenedly and then asked warily:

"I’m sorry, what?"

The Italian smiled softly at her and leaned a little closer so that she could hear better.

"You are too tensed in the dance, try to relax, Hermione!"

"Oh, you mean like that," she said with relief. Deep down, she was afraid that Matteo would notice her nervous anxiousness. "I’m not very good at dancing, it’s true."

"No, not at all, Hermione! You move beautifully," the Italian hastily assured her with his characteristic emotionality. "You just can’t allow yourself to move freely yet. I bet you haven’t danced in a while."

Matteo, slightly tilting his head to one side, with a half-smile peered into Hermione’s face, as if trying to find confirmation of his assumption in it.

"Yes, you’re absolutely right," she replied ruefully and smiled shyly. "I very rarely got out anywhere in the last... Mmm... Several years."

"Oh, well, here, bella, you can be sure – you will make up for all your missed opportunities," the Italian laughed and looked at her in a strange way. It was as if he knew something that only he had known. Hermione felt uneasy with the look.

Suddenly the music stopped, and the familiar sound of a fanfare was heard, announcing the next part of the entertainment program. The stage, brightly lit by the floodlights, once again began to play with different colors and a beautiful dancing couple appeared on it. Hermione had noticed them at the beginning of the magic show. All the dancers danced equally well, but it was these two who immediately caught the eye. The slender, elegant brown-haired woman and the dark, brunet man were dazzlingly beautiful and looked like siblings. They performed a few dance moves with such grace that the audience immediately burst into applause. The wizards bowed and raised their wands to their necks with a satisfied smile.

"Good evening, dear friends!" The girl was the first to speak, her voice clear and confident, carried throughout the hall by a special spell. She shone with a positive, and her smile, it seemed, could conquer anyone. (New character: an energetic dance coach, Italian, but speaks good English).

"Hello!" The young man echoed her. He was more reserved in his emotions, but still incredibly charming.

After waiting for another flurry of applause and hooting to subside, the wizards continued:

"My name is Maria, and this is my incomparable partner Stefano! A-a-a-and… Welcome to the best resort in the wizarding world!"

Hermione could see a lot of people talking approvingly and nodding their heads. It was obvious that they already knew this energetic witch. It is quite possible that someone was staying here not for the first time. The thought of this seemed a little wild to Hermione, but looking at all this audience, as if exuding the energy of success and wealth, it was easy to believe that it was so.

"We are happy to inform you that we will be your dance teachers for the entire duration of your stay at "La Bella Magnolia"!" said the dark-haired in a velvet voice and looked around with a languid look at all those present, from which several wizards gasped in amazement.

"And our first lesson starts right now!" Maria exclaimed and clapped her hands. The hall was instantly filled with sensual Latin American music with the beautiful vocals of a sweet-voiced Italian, and the dancers, hugging each other closely, began to dance. Hermione’s cheeks flushed a little: for some reason it was uncomfortable to look at them, it seemed that she was peeping through the keyhole of the marital bedroom. Hermione didn’t know what the dance was called, but it certainly represented everything she wasn’t used to talking about. Sexual desire, passion, possession – that was what was read in their movements, body language spoke for itself. But with all this, hardly anyone would dare to call this dance vulgar. On the contrary, he was attractively beautiful, touching the strings of the soul of everyone who looked at it.

"This is true freedom of movement," Matteo said in Hermione’s ear. He looked at the dancing couple with awe, and there was a hint of pride in his eyes.

Hermione mentally agreed with him, unable to take her eyes off the couple. She was fascinated by every stroke of the hand, the casual glance from one of the dancers. Everything inside her screamed that she shouldn’t like it, that it was "too much", but Hermione knew that in spite of everything, she was enjoying what she saw. And to be completely honest, she herself would like to be able to dance like that, to be just as free in expressing her feelings.

Finally, the music ended and the couple bowed to thunderous applause. Hermione, as if waking up from a strange intoxication, hastened to add to this flurry of applause.

"Matteo, how wonderful it is to be able to dance like that!" She said enthusiastically. Her heart was breaking with emotions she had never felt before.

The Italian smiled warmly and said:

"It only takes your desire, you can do it yourself. Trust me, bella."

Hermione turned absently and stared at him for a while, but soon laughed.

"Me? Come on, Matteo. Dancing isn’t my sort of thing."

"Well, we’ll see," the Italian said mysteriously and turned his gaze to the stage. Maria began to speak again.

"The dance that we have just pleasurably shown you is called bachata. Contrary to popular belief, it arose more than half a century ago in southern Italy as a sign of the independence of Italian wizards from the political, religious and other unrest characteristic of that time. Bachata is called the dance of love, passion and freedom. The basic steps are simple enough, and in order to learn them, dear guests, please split into pairs."

Hermione saw how many wizards, embarrassed, looked around uncertainly, while others, on the contrary, pressed even closer to their partners, with whom they had been dancing all this time. For example, that tall brunet who danced with Ron clung to him so hard that it seemed that no magic could make her loosen her iron grip. Hermione saw perfectly well how Ron was drilling Matteo’s eyes on the dance floor, but tried not to show that she noticed it.

Hermione sighed and turned around to leave when she heard the velvet male voice again.

"And remember, this master class should be attended by absolutely all guests of our resort!" in a joking manner, but, nevertheless, Stefano said sternly. "That is why our colleagues will be happy to help you decide on a pair and at the same time control the entire learning process."

After these words, a new bachata melody began to play, and out of nowhere in the hall, wizards from the dance troupe appeared, who performed at the very beginning of the show together with Maria and Stefano. They immediately scattered around the hall and began to help look for a couple for those who were so far without partners.

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat, and she turned to Matteo. The Italian moved a few feet away from her and was now explaining something to an elderly witch in a blue calico dress.

Hermione decided not to distract him for now, but she thought to herself that if she had to inevitably learn this dance, then Matteo would be better partner for her than anyone else.

Hermione relaxed a bit and started looking around for Ginny and Harry. Finally, she saw the familiar red head of hair not far from her and tried to catch her friend’s eye. Noticing her, Ginny waved her hand, smiling broadly. Hermione smiled back and noted that Harry, who was standing next to him, looked quite unhappy. Obviously, he had already managed to get tired of the excessive activity of his fiancee that evening, and dancing had never been his favorite pastime. Just at that moment, a young witch approached them and began to emotionally explain something, actively gesturing. Apparently, she explained the dance technique. Hermione, with a last look at her friends, turned away and walked towards Matteo. On the way, she noticed that almost all the wizards had already split into pairs and were now patiently waiting for further instructions. Some, who already knew the basics of bachata, started to dance, not paying attention to anyone around. The Italian was only a few steps away when he turned around and, smiling, took a step towards Hermione.

"Well, bella, are you ready to learn the most sensual dance in the world?"

"I have no choice but to say yes," she replied with a sweet face.

"Then let’s find you the best partner,’’ Matteo said cheerfully and, taking Hermione by the hand, dragged her somewhere deeper into the hall.

"Wait, can’t you be my partner?" She was taken aback, staring in dismay at the Italian, who was leading her confidently through the crowd. She hadn’t expected such a turn of events.

Matteo stopped and, cheerfully tilting his head to one side, said:

"I would love to dance with you, Hermione, but unfortunately I have no right to do so, since I work in the Magnolia. On the contrary, I have to help our guests make new acquaintances at the resort."

Apparently, Hermione had such a frightened expression on her face that the Italian couldn’t help but laugh.

"Don’t worry, bella! It’s just a dance. No one will hurt you here!"

"I hope so," Hermione muttered under her breath, and gave Matteo the opportunity to lead herself into the crowd.

She felt extremely bad. It was wild at the thought that now she would have to learn such a frank dance with some unknown wizard. The prospect was frightening, but it was even more annoying that she couldn’t do anything about it. Otherwise, she would have to leave not only this hall, but also the resort.

Matteo maneuvered deftly among the crowd, but so far there were only formed couples around, and it seemed that all single partners were taken. Hermione was quietly glad of this circumstance – maybe she would not have to dance at all. It’s not her fault that the number of men and women in the hall is not equal! Meanwhile, the Italian, frowning, led her to the stage.

"Wait, Matteo, where are we going?" Hermione asked blankly, trying to slow down. She still lacked to be on stage with a sign on her chest: "Looking for a partner."

"It’s all right, bella, trust me," the guy assured her seriously and called Maria to him with a gesture. The dancer smiled happily at him and, going down the steps, came closer. Matteo immediately began to chatter something very quickly in Italian, and Hermione realized with annoyance that she didn’t understand a single word. Maria listened intently, frowning slightly, but in the end, she gave an affirmative nod and went back on the stage. She vigilantly surveyed the entire hall and suddenly her face brightened. She gestured for Matteo to wait, raised her wand to her throat and said loudly:

"So, as I see, almost all of you have already found a pair and are ready to start the master class right now!"

The audience responded with exclamations of approval, and Maria, smiling with satisfaction, continued:

"However, not everyone heard my request. For example, you, young man, why haven’t you joined us with a beautiful lady yet?"

The witch was looking somewhere over the heads of everyone on the dance floor, and Hermione turned around apprehensively. For some reason, she had a bad feeling, and the moment she stumbled upon the seated figure at the table, she realized what was the reason.

The only one who never made it onto the dance floor was Draco Malfoy.

Hermione gasped in shock, and her pupils widened in horror. She didn’t want to think out the development of events, because it was clearly dangerous for her psyche.

Malfoy grinned, lazily raised his wand to his throat and, whispering a spell, just as loudly said:

"Excuse me, signorina, but, unfortunately, my partner has been away for a while. I think I’ll wait for her here."

He didn’t seem to care that all the wizards were looking at him right now. Hermione thought that she would die of embarrassment in a situation like this.

"Oh, mister, you must be confusing something. Your partner has been waiting for you for a long time," Maria cooed, gesturing at Hermione.

As if in slow motion, she could see the crowd parting in front of her, forming a passageway with her and Malfoy on either side. In less than a second, Hermione felt the gaze of all the wizards present, and she felt wildly uncomfortable. Her breath caught in her throat, mouth went dry, and it seemed to her that she was about to faint. Anything but that.

Malfoy seemed as stunned as she was, but tried to pull himself together. He lowered his head, pursing his lips, but soon lifted his chin again and said with a sweet smile:

"Sorry, Maria, but you made a little mistake. This is definitely not my partner."

The dancer, slightly screwing up her eyes, said in a more serious tone:

"Come here, please, mister. I think you’re perfectly familiar with the rules of our resort, and therefore just take my word for it that today this charming signorina will be your partner."

Hermione was frozen with horror. A murmur of surprise ran through the hall, but she didn’t hear it. It seemed that the whole world had gone out from under her feet when she saw that Malfoy, frozen in shock for a while in an unnatural position, finally walked straight towards her with a haughty expression on his face, after reluctantly rising from his seat. What the hell is he doing? Was he really going to dance with her?! Apparently all these questions were reflected on Hermione’s face, and Malfoy twisted his mouth in a disdainful grin, looking on her. Obviously, such a prospect didn’t please him either, but he understood that there was no way out. With each step the distance between them narrowed, and Hermione felt like a caged animal. Desperately she turned to Italian and grabbed his shirt:

"Please, Matteo, anything but that! You have no idea how much he hates me!"

The Italian looked at Hermione in surprise, but soon his expression softened and he gently laid his hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry, bella, but I can’t help you here. The Magnolia has chosen the partner for you, to oppose it would be tantamount to leaving this resort forever. But please calm down. Just remember that everything is happening here only for the benefit of the vacationers, even if it doesn’t seem so at first."

Hermione took a shuddering breath and turned to face Malfoy, who was looking at her with a sullen look of doom. Startled, she flinched and took a couple of steps back.

"Hi, Granger. Glad to see you again," Draco said in a mocking manner, arching an eyebrow arrogantly.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, an angry Ron jumped out, standing between them. He was red with indignation, and Hermione covered her mouth with her hand in horror, fearing what was about to follow.

"Hermione, you can’t dance with him!" Ron shouted, looking furiously from Hermione to Draco.

"Oh, what a dedication, Weasley. Are you tired of being Potter’s shadow? Want some attention?" Malfoy remarked calmly, examining his nails. It was as if he had just happened to drop in on a lunatic and was now condescending to his abnormal behavior.

"Shut up!" Ron snapped and turned back to Hermione. "Tell them that you won’t dance with him!"

Hermione couldn’t say a word. Ron seemed to have lost his temper.

"Mister, calm down, please, this is just one little dance lesson," Stefano went down to them, looking Ron straight in the eye. "Please take your place near the partner."

"But it’s Malfoy! If you’d only known how much he hates Hermione! He’s ready to kill her if he gets the chance, I swear!" Ron blurted out in one breath. "I’ll dance with her!"

Hermione wanted to sink into the ground. Ron was drawing too much attention to an already overly uncomfortable situation, making it all the more absurd.

"Please, mister, take your place near your partner," Stefano insisted, looking Ron in the eye. There was something in his gaze that made him instantly quiet and, finally, with one last unkind look at Draco, he trudged away from them. Hermione knew that the Veela’ descendants are born with excellent power of suggestion and hypnosis, and, apparently, Stefano was no exception. Ron had gone quiet and now he just stared at Draco with silent ferocity, crossing his arms over the chest. The brunet he had just approached was glaring at Hermione, with her eyes sparkling with displeasure.

"Does anyone want to say something else?" Stefano’s gaze swept the room, and when there was only silence, he said with a smile: "That’s good."

Matteo patted Hermione sympathetically on the shoulder and wished her luck as he left the dance floor: he wasn’t supposed to be here at the moment. She looked after him with a look of hopeless longing and, trying not to notice Malfoy, turned her gaze to the stage.

"So, in order to learn the basic steps of bachata, please stand opposite each other so that the right half of your body occupies half of your partner’s body," Maria said loudly and for greater clarity, she faced Stefano slightly to the left of him.

At that moment the music grew louder, and Hermione thought that the worst was about to begin. But she wasn’t used to giving up, and even more so, she wasn’t going to let Malfoy see her emotions. So, recruiting her willpower, Hermione turned sharply to face Draco. Malfoy looked down at her with all the indifference he could muster, so it somewhat simplified the task. Without saying a word, Hermione took a few steps to the left to stand as the dancers indicated. There was about twelve inches between her and Malfoy, but she couldn’t bring herself to close the distance. However, he was in no hurry to do this either.

"Very well, now come close to your partners and stand in a closed position as we are showing you now," Stefano said, as if reading Hermione’s thoughts, and pulled Maria to him. "Partners, please, pay attention, our left hand is kept in the lock, the right hand is on the lady’s waist. Go ahead!"

Hermione desperately tried to pretend that she hadn’t heard anything, and looked around with undue interest, still remaining in her place. Dangerously close to her were the dance teachers’ assistants, who adjusted the wizards’ positions relative to each other, gently correcting the flaws they saw. Hermione thought distantly that very soon she would inevitably have to be too intimate with the ferret, whether she wanted to or not, because the dancers probably wouldn’t leave them alone. But how much she wanted to delay the onset of this moment! Hermione caught Ginny’s sympathetic look and tried to smile at her, hoping that her friend wouldn’t see her inner agony. Such a naivety.

"Well, Granger?" Hermione heard Malfoy’s irritated voice.

Reluctantly, she turned and looked at him as if he were a flobberworm and asked with hostility:

"What?"

"How long should I wait before you come to me? We’re kind of partners for tonight, or did you forget?" Draco grinned unkindly.

Hermione opened her mouth slightly at the audacity. Does the ferret expect her to take the initiative?

"Thank you for reminding me, Malfoy, but I have absolutely no desire to approach you, much less touch you," Hermione replied tartly, crossing her arms over her chest. "And by the way, isn’t it a man who should make the first step?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"You’re ridiculous, Granger! If it wasn’t for your short-sightedness, you might have noticed that in a dance, a man invites a woman, and she comes up to him in return," Draco explained to Hermione, like to a child who doesn’t understand obvious things.

Unfortunately, Malfoy was right. Hermione herself knew this very well, because even as a child, learning the basics of the dancing’s art, she remembered that it was with such an invitation that all pair dances began.

"In that case, Malfoy, why haven’t you invited me yet? The partner can’t approach another partner without an invitation, or have you forgotten?" Hermione retorted, narrowing her eyes.

They glared at each other for a few seconds before Draco’s left hand rose gracefully to meet her.

"Please, signorina," Malfoy said sarcastically with a nasty grin on his lips.

Hermione gasped involuntarily when she saw the tattoo on his forearm, it was also moving a little. She drew back from Malfoy before she could see it, but meeting his mocking gaze, pulled herself together. Proudly lifting her nose and taking a few confident steps towards Draco, Hermione placed her hand on his palm.

It was as if she’d been electrocuted. A slight shiver ran through her. Malfoy’s hand was considerably larger than her own, it was obvious when he squeezed Hermione’s hand. She held her breath, unable to look up at Draco. There was something eerily strange about this moment. Meanwhile, Malfoy pulled her gently towards him, but Hermione didn’t follow his impulse.

"Granger, you remind me of a shy schoolgirl, stop acting like a teenager," Draco said irritably, squeezing her hand a little harder.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione said, still looking down at her feet. At this moment, she was cursing the day she had agreed to go to this crazy resort.

Suddenly, the graceful figure of a girl floated out of the crowd and headed straight in their direction.

"Signor, signorina, is there a problem? My name is Francesca, and you can ask me any questions you want," said the witch with an Italian accent, anxiously looking into their faces. She was one of those dancers to oversee the training of the guests.

"Yes, Donna, please show the young signorina how to properly accept a partner’s invitation and pair up with him." Draco said quickly in his mocking manner, before Hermione could say anything. Granger instantly raised her head to meet his gaze. Malfoy was smiling unpleasantly and was showing with his whole appearance that he was damn pleased with himself.

"Oh, with pleasure, signor!" The witch reacted enthusiastically and, turning to Hermione, gently began to explain. "Signorina, now your partner will give you an impulse with his hand, and you try to follow him. You just need to listen to your partner, understand where he wants to direct you. It’s so happened historically that the dance is always led by a man, and a woman must obey and comply with him."

Hermione nearly howled. Obey and comply with Malfoy! A more humiliating punishment for her was hard to come up with. Draco was struggling to keep his laughter from bursting out, and Hermione desperately wanted to throw some Unforgivable Curses at him. He obviously understood what the witch’s words meant to Hermione: the complete collapse of the Gryffindor pride she held so dear.

Well, the ferret seems to find this whole situation very funny. Hermione gritted her teeth in anger, wondering what would be the best way to wipe that nasty grin off his face. Suddenly it dawned on her, and she instantly changed in face, with a hard smile, looked at Draco.

"Well, come on Malfoy, I’m waiting."

He sensed a change in her, and obviously didn’t like it. Hermione, with the same expression on her face, watched as Malfoy mentally went through all possible moves on her part. After a moment’s hesitation, he gently pulled her toward him, as if testing something, and she responded instantly, pressing her whole body against him with fervor. Draco clearly hadn’t expected this turn of events, and his face tilted in surprise. Apparently, he thought that Hermione would continue being difficult, shyly hiding her eyes and afraid to take a step towards him. In his memory, she had probably always been a decent, proper nerd with a crow’s nest on her head, and if Malfoy had been told that the same Granger would cling to him passionately on her own initiative, he would have advised the man to stop smoking excess Elven weed. But Draco seemed to have forgotten that it was not a simple Muggle girl from the backwoods, but Hermione Granger, one of the smartest and most gifted witches he had ever met. It was no secret that if it hadn’t been for Granger’s quick wits at the crucial moments of the war, the great Potter would have been feeding the worms long ago. Even now, she was obviously thinking two moves ahead.

"Excellent, just excellent!" The witch exclaimed enthusiastically. "And now, signor, put your right hand on the lady’s waist."

Hermione was still looking at Malfoy expectantly with the same cruel mockery, still clinging tightly to him. She blocked out all her feelings and emotions, pushing the chilling horror of what was happening as far away as possible. Malfoy had taken her out wildly, and the desire to take revenge on him at the moment justified absolutely all means. The ferret had pulled his hands away from her with ostentatious disgust at the slightest, even accidental, contact at Hogwarts and Hermione was pretty sure that Malfoy’s reaction to this had remained unchanged, as had his nasty temper. She was looking forward to the moment when he would push her away in disgust and refuse to dance with her, preferring to go back home. Putting up with such close contact with a Mudblood should have been beyond him.

But for some time, Draco, who was taken aback, was in no hurry to meet Hermione’s expectations. On the contrary, his face slowly blossomed into the familiar nasty grin that didn’t bode well, and an evil light lit up in his eyes.

"I see, Granger, that close contact turns you on, doesn’t it?" Malfoy said slowly, in a low, muffled voice, leaning close to Hermione’s ear, giving her goosebumps. "Well, I won’t deprive you of that pleasure."

With that, his fingers touched her waist demandingly and Draco slid his palms down her body, pulling her even closer to him. Once again, Hermione felt as if she had been hit by a powerful electric shock. What is it? She gasped in surprise, and it was at that moment that the whole situation came crashing down on her. Like a house of cards, all her futile attempts to throw Malfoy off balance fell apart. On the contrary, she had fallen into her own trap. She shivered slightly as she realized that she was standing too close to Draco Malfoy, and from the outside they must have looked like two lovers in the most passionate period of their relationship. The only physical intimacy she’d ever had was with Ron when they made love, and it was unnerving. Hermione felt a violent attack of self-disgust, and she wanted to break free from Malfoy’s grasping hands in order to run as far from this place as possible. How could she even find the strength to move more than twenty inches to him? No, this place definitely has a strange effect on her.

Hermione glared at Draco, who, with barely concealed triumph, was waiting for her next step. To retreat is to lose, to stay is to destroy the last bits of self-respect. Hermione didn’t know which one was worse, so she just tried to kill Malfoy with a glare, mentally weighing the pros and cons of each decision.

"It’s alright, just please move a little more to the left, miss. The partner’s right leg should be between your legs," the witch’s voice sounded nearby, whom Hermione had already forgotten.

"Wh-what?" she asked, turning to the witch, hoping that she had misheard,

"The bachata stand, look," the woman pointed to the stage, believing that the best explanation is a good example. Maria and Stefano were just explaining how the partners partner stand correctly relative to each other in the dance. Hermione noticed that the knees of both dancers were bent, their legs seemed to be holding each other. This created a closer contact in the couple, and purely visually it seemed that the woman was sitting on the knee of the partner.

Hermione quickly turned away from the stage and looked around, hoping to find confirmation that her fears were in vain. But, unfortunately, almost all couples were already in this position, although some felt clearly uncomfortable from such close contact.

"Spread your legs, Granger," Draco said mockingly, startling her. Malfoy has always been a moral freak, but he never stooped to such obscenity!

"How dare you, you vile, nasty…" Hermione started to protest, but was interrupted by Malfoy’s sharp voice.

"Oh, Merlin, please shut this stupid girl up!" Draco asked, throwing back his head in resignation, and immediately fixed Hermione with a searching gaze. "Granger, you have surprised me with your intelligence again in the last ten minutes! Tell me, have you always been like this, or is it your long association with the Weasleys that made you a cripple?"

"Signor, stop talking to the girl like that right now!" the dancer, who was still standing next to them, exclaimed sternly. She glared at Draco, but soon her gaze softened and she turned to Hermione.

"Signorina, this signor, even in a rough form, but still told the truth: you should spread your legs a little so that your partner can properly stand in relation to you."

For some reason, Hermione once again felt like a complete fool. When will this nightmare end? Annoyed, she shifted slightly to the left of Malfoy and carefully placed her right foot between his legs, and he did the same to her. They had to move a little away from each other to get into what they thought was the right position, which Hermione was very happy about. They were still dangerously close to each other, but in any case, it was already a very tolerable contact, compared to the previous position of their bodies.

"No, no, signorina, you must have misunderstood. To move slightly to the left of the partner doesn’t mean to move away from him," the dancer shook her head and pushed Hermione with her hand to meet Draco again. Startled, she slammed into him, and they almost fell together, losing their balance.

"Careful, Mudblood," snapped Malfoy, his eyes flashing angrily, but then his expression changed. "I understand your excitement, Granger, but try to control yourself. There are people around, after all."

"Yes, you’re right, it’s going to take a lot of self-control not to kill you right here!" Hermione squeezed his hand tightly, burning with rage and embarrassment at the same time. How dare Malfoy even hint at such a thing! Although, it was her own fault that she had crossed the line in wanting to get back at him.

"Oh, you want to kill me with a hot sex session on the floor under the Weasleys’ noses? I didn’t think you had such a sophisticated imagination, Granger," Draco said with a cheeky grin. He glared pointedly at Hermione, obviously remembering the reckless behavior she had shown earlier. She was blushing furiously and choking with indignation.

"Sick pervert," Hermione finally spat contemptuously, and turned away from him. Her whole body seemed to burn with indignation, and the sensation of Malfoy’s touch was almost unbearable. Hermione was wildly tempted to leave this cursed place, but only the thought of her friends, who were so eager to rest, stopped her. She was never selfish, and therefore was ready to endure any troubles and adversities, if only her loved ones were happy. But it suddenly dawned on Hermione that Ron, Ginny, and Harry must have seen everything. The thought paralyzed her. It was terrifying to imagine Ron’s reaction if he had been watching all this performance of hers with Malfoy. She turned slowly in horror in the direction where Ron was standing, and then breathed a sigh of relief: apparently, the brunet had dragged him as far away from Hermione as possible, and he had no chance to see everything that had happened.

"...now repeat after us! It’s very simple: we take four steps in one direction, and then in the other. At the same time, pay attention, at the last step of the movement in each of the sides, we put our foot on the toe, while making a slight accent with the hip," Maria’s voice reached Hermione. Hermione hadn’t noticed that she had missed a significant portion of the lecture. Glancing at Francesca, she realized that Francesca was still watching her and Draco intently. With a resigned sigh, Hermione gritted her teeth and looked firmly at Malfoy:

"All right, Malfoy, if we have to dance together, I prefer to do it without wasting my nerve cells. So I suggest we just ignore each other in silence for the duration of the dance lesson."

"Well, I can’t say I’m entirely happy with your suggestion, Granger, but it sounds pretty good on the whole," Draco said slowly after a few seconds of thought. "I would just like to make one condition."

"What’s that?" Hermione asked tensely. She had expected a trick from Malfoy. By definition, he couldn’t be too accommodating.

As if to confirm her words, Draco smiled indulgently and leaned toward her.

Hermione instinctively wanted to pull back, but she remained firmly in place.

"Don’t snuggle up to me again if you don’t want to get in trouble, Granger," Draco whispered in her ear.

Hermione snorted loudly.

"What kind of nonsense is that! As if I really wanted to," she said scornfully, trying to put as much disgust into her eyes as possible.

"You didn’t think so a while ago," the Slytherin said, looking Hermione up and down with a meaningful look.

No, he definitely knew how to get to her.

"Signor, signorina, please stop bickering!" Francesca’s angry voice distracted them both. Obviously, they had already annoyed her with their behavior. "I would advise you to start learning bachata by all means, or I will have to take you out of the hall," the dancer threatened in a categorical tone, and crossed her arms over her chest.

Hermione and Draco exchanged hostile glances, and when they realized there was no way out, they turned their attention to the stage.

"... and, one, two, three, four! One, two, three, emphasis!" Stefano counted loudly as he danced the main bachata move with Maria. They moved from side to side, huddled close together. Even this simple movement in their performance looked very piquant, which once again plunged Hermione into an unpleasant perplexity. It was just hard to imagine that she would have to dance it with Malfoy.

"Okay, Granger, let’s get this over with," Draco said, tugging impatiently at her arm, forcing her to focus on him. He looked tired and annoyed.

"All right," said Hermione in an unnatural tone, swallowing hard. Her voice seemed a little higher than it normally was, and there was a great deal of anxiousness in it. Draco could see Granger’s nervousness, but he didn’t react. Instead, he tightened his grip on Hermione’s waist a little more firmly and, listening to the rhythm, led her to the side. It was a surprise to her, but she quickly got her bearings, and with bated breath, she tried to adjust to Draco. To Hermione’s annoyance, Malfoy moved flawlessly, and apparently was a great partner, but she absolutely didn’t want to admit it. On the contrary, Hermione stared intently at the stage, repeating Maria’s movements and trying as hard as possible not to think about Malfoy’s painful closeness.

"Stop, stop!" That won’t do," she heard Francesca say. Hermione and Draco looked at the sorceress in disbelief.

"Is something wrong?" Malfoy voiced their common thought.

"Yes, sir!" as if it were obvious, the dancer exclaimed. "Your eyes – that’s what’s wrong! You must look into each other’s eyes!

Hermione took a sharp breath, as if about to say something, but immediately changed her mind and went limp. There was no point in arguing with Francesca, because, after all, her word was law to them today.

"Okay, Granger, let’s try again," after a pause, Malfoy turned to her tensely, trying to hide his indignation. Outwardly, he looked quite calm, but Hermione had learned too much about the ferret in her seven years at Hogwarts not to judge him purely by his appearance. She had an intuitive feeling that Malfoy was ready to explode at any moment and leave this place for good. Frankly, she was amazed at his self-control, considering that the mere fact of touching a Mudblood should have made him lose his temper.

Finally, Hermione nodded grimly and looked up into his eyes with a frown of concentration. Draco gave her the same look, and something strange happened. Her whole body was covered with goosebumps, and a feeling so new to her stirred in her chest that Hermione involuntarily held her breath. Suddenly, all the sensations of their bodies touching increased a hundredfold, it seemed as if the room was getting hotter, and the whole world was gone, and it was at that moment that Draco led her away again, stepping exactly to the beat of the music, and she followed him. Hermione was burned by the touch of his hands, Malfoy’s gaze was eating away at her soul, and the feeling of closeness was killing her. Nevertheless, as if on some strange impulse, she followed Draco as if spellbound, keeping a tight eye contact. Her feelings about it were so strange and frightening that Hermione couldn’t understand them at all right now, and frankly, she didn’t want to. It was as if there was a very strong electrified field between her and Malfoy, making it even harder to breathe next to it.

There was something wrong with that moment. Although no, absolutely everything was wrong! This shouldn’t have happened, but for some unknown reason, it was these two, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, who danced with each other in one of the most sensual dances in the world. All emotions were mixed up, thoughts suddenly disappeared somewhere, and only the sounds of music took the two of them so unlike each other to an unprecedented distance, where no one else existed. Did they stop hating each other at that moment? Have they forgotten all the grievances? Of course not. Moreover, very soon they will curse the day when they agreed to visit this resort, resent and revolt, but it will be later. There was only one thing for them now – the magic of the dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and hope you like it! The best is yet to come:) BTW, we would be really happy to see your reactions:)


End file.
